Propagation
by the morrighan
Summary: The risks of breeding come in many forms.
1. Chapter 1

Propagation

Gray.

The dull color encompassed the entire uniform, down even to the military-style boots. A dark, charcoal shade. Emblazoned only by a few silver buttons that glinted in the falling sunlight. Dappled by the shadows of passing clouds and the looming jungle of trees the color was the perfect camouflage. The stripling effect making the men wearing the uniforms almost invisible.

Almost.

John Sheppard scowled, peering through the binoculars at the orderly cluster of men standing near a Quonset hut. He increased the zoom, not by adjusting the wheel on top but by merely thinking about it. His ATA gene activated the Ancient tech and the picture became closer, sharper. The men appeared to be waiting for something, or someone. "This is not how I wanted to spend my anniversary," he griped. "Tracking Genii soldiers."

Rodney McKay glanced at him, looking from his ordinary pair of binoculars. "What anniversary?"

John met his friend's gaze briefly. Frowned. "My wedding anniversary! What did you think?"

"Oh. You remembered? You actually remembered that? You keep track of that kind of thing?"

John ignored the sarcasm. "I keep track of everything. And yes, I remember. Today Moira and I have been married exactly one year. Exactly," he repeated, as if Rodney was going to try to correct him, or contradict him. "And she is five months along now with John junior. My son."

"Who else's could it possibly be?" Rodney quipped, amused at his friend's serious tone. "Wow. A year already? She'll be pissed you're missing it."

"No. She'll be worried about me." He paused. "Then she'll be pissed." The two men shared a quiet laugh. "Damn Genii."

Rodney commented, "Why don't you go down there and tell them it's your wedding anniversary, John? Being your first and all I'm sure they will understand and let us safely pass to the Stargate. Hey, if you mention Moira's pregnancy they might even throw in a ZPM."

"Ha ha. Damn it," he repeated sourly.

"So...after a year. A whole year. Twelve months. Three hundred sixty-five days. I'm assuming you meant an Earth year, although a year on Atlantis does seem to take about the same length of time. Not exactly, though. In fact the year here in this galaxy, on our planet is actually four point seven minutes longer than–"

"Was there a question in there or you trying to bore to death?" John quipped.

"Ha ha. After a year," Rodney resumed, "is it still nice?"

John smiled. Eyes on the soldiers. "Yeah. Nice. Very nice. Funny, it doesn't seem like a year. Moira would probably agree."

"But it does seem like she's been pregnant forever," Rodney noted.

John laughed. "Yeah, she'd agree to that. Ah. Here we go. Movement at three o'clock, plus they are suddenly at attention." He tapped his radio. "Teyla, copy?"

Teyla Emmagan started, crouching behind a hillock near the Stargate. "John, copy. There's still too many at the 'Gate. A group came through and moved towards your position, I believe. But the 'Gate is still heavily guarded."

"Sheppard, there's only twenty. I can take them," Ronon Dex growled. Ignoring the reprimand in Teyla's eyes.

"Down, Chewie. That's a negative. Sounds like something's going down. Their guarding their egress point so keep a sharp lookout for any Wraith activity. Maintain position. Do not engage the enemy. Rodney and I can see what they're up to. Sheppard out." He tapped the radio. Sighed. "Shit. I had presents too."

"Presents? For the Genii? That's awfully generous of you, John."

"For Moira!" he snapped. "Special ones."

"They'll keep. Look, why don't we just circle round, wait it out and then go? Do we really need to spy on them? I mean, what could they possibly–"

"Son of a bitch," John muttered, peering through the binoculars again.

"What? What?" Rodney peered through his.

"Something's going on in there. They're standing guard but no one's going in. Yet. See how they're standing? Like they're almost afraid to even look at the hut. Probably have orders not to go in. Classified. I bet we can get closer."

"Closer?" Rodney asked, clearly unhappy.

"Yes. I bet there's a back way in."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"There's always a back way in, Rodney. We need to see what's in there."

Great. And how are we going to sneak past all those guards, exactly?"

"Working on it. Son of a bitch!"

"Now what?" Rodney asked. Gulped. "Son of a bitch," he echoed, watching the tall, stern man join the group. The face unmistakable. The grim, hard lines. The hard eyes. He barked a series of orders, arms sharply moving in the air. He headed through the trees, a line of soldiers with him. Absently Rodney touched his arm where he had been cut by a knife.

"Kolya," John said, voice low. The one word conveying his hatred, disdain. "Well, I can also salvage something here and kill that bastard."

"Ha ha. You were joking, weren't you? John? John, you..." Rodney sighed, seeing the firm resolve in his friend's eyes as he lowered the binoculars. "Great. Just great," he sighed.

"Just great," Ronon grumbled, crouching. It was an awkward stance for the large man. Uncomfortable. He hated skulking about in the shadows. "We're just supposed to wait here?"

Teyla inwardly sighed. "Yes. You heard his orders. We cannot take on all of those Genii without sustaining risk. Or injury. Or capture."

Ronon frowned. Peered down at the men milling around the Stargate. "Do you think Sheppard's being too cautious? I mean now that he's married and all. Has a kid on the way."

"I think he is being prudent. And there is nothing wrong with being cautious," Teyla countered.

"The Genii are dangerous adversaries. You have heard how they once overran Atlantis?"

"Yes. And how Sheppard took out several of their men. On his own."

Teyla eyed him. "And you believe that he is weaker now, somehow? Because he has the responsibility of a wife and a child on the way?"

"No, not at all," Ronon rejoined, shaking his head. "I'm just saying he's more..."

Ronon never finished the thought as the Stargate erupted. The KAWOOSH a violent explosion of matter ejected outwards. Then calming to a placid pool which shimmered in the sunlight. Another group of Genii came through the event horizon. But these soldiers were leading a group of prisoners. Tied together, separated by lengths of rope. "What the...what is that?" Ronon asked, staring.

Teyla shook her head, eyes widening. "I have never encountered such a sight."

The prisoners were Wraith. Young Wraith, immature. Appearing weak from hunger. Walking with shuffling steps. They were clad in simple clothing. Clothing that could be seen in villages all over the galaxy. Some appeared frightened. Others merely curious. All sullen. Tamed, but not quite. Oddly appearing more human than Wraith.

"What do they want with young Wraith? Slaves?" Ronon asked, gripping his gun tightly as a wave of revulsion swept over him. Watching the creatures being herded away from the Stargate like cattle.

"No." Teyla laid a hand on the Satedan's arm. "First we contact Sheppard. We cannot intervene now. It is too risky. This is not our fight." She felt a chill, remembering Elia. Another young Wraith who had been trying to fit into a human society, and failing miserably.

"I have no qualms about the Genii taking Wraith as slaves. It just seems...odd. What should we do?" Ronon asked quietly.

"Nothing. We report, observe. And secure the 'Gate once the numbers of Genii decrease," Teyla decided.

"Oh. Okay, that I can do." Ronon smiled. "But leave me at least ten or so. Otherwise it won't be a fair fight. For them."

"Crap," Teyla sighed, seeing his grin of anticipation.

"John? John, have you really thought this through?" Rodney asked, ducking under a heavy branch. He was creeping behind John as they wove a surreptitious way closer to the hut. The trees were thick here, covered with crawling vines and enormous ferns that threatened to cause a sneezing fit. The air was moist, humid. The jungle cloying at times.

"Of course. We need intel, Rodney. Now be quiet." John ducked under a heavy bough. Crouched and held up his hand. They had circled round to the back. Were concealed by the heavy foliage, inches from the hut now. No noises issued from it. The quiet voices of the Genii soldiers carried on the air from the front of the building.

"John...John, if anything happens to us, to you, Moira will be pissed. Doubly pissed. She's pregnant, you know. Expecting a baby. Your baby! I'm just saying," Rodney prompted.

John glanced at him. "I know. Odd they don't have guards back here. So no one of value is inside."

"That's a comfort," Rodney mumbled, following as John moved cautiously closer.

"Back door," John mouthed, pointing. Gave his friend a quick smile. Gestured.

Rodney sighed. Followed his friend to the door. He crouched in the ferns as John did the same, quietly testing the door. It opened silently. Not locked. There was no alarm. No sounds. John rose, gestured. Entered the hut, Rodney on his heels.

It was full. Crowded. Rows of tables lining the floor, creating narrow aisles. Cage after cage after cage. Small tanks full of water, one after the other after the other. The walls lined with vials and equipment. Liquids and electrical wires. Crystals of Ancient design. The two men exchanged a glance, separated, began to move along different aisles.

John peered into the cages, moving quietly. Glancing round, alert for any sound, any intrusion. The cages were full of mice. Ordinary field mice. Brown fur, twitching whiskers. Beady black eyes. But as he moved along they were no longer ordinary rodents. Some sported odd contusions. Others were hairless. More deformed. Growths on their backs. Scales. Mutations that were increasing in size compared to the mouse inflicted with them. John felt queasy looking at them. Was glad that Moira wasn't here to see this. Knew she would be outraged, sickened. He paused. Staring. Leaning closer. "Rodney," he said quietly.

Rodney was peering into the tanks, lined up like aquariums. Things were swimming in the dark waters and he really didn't want to see. Nevertheless he tried to make out the forms. Recognized fish. Squids. Other forms he could only guess at and didn't really want to know. He moved along, hand on the gun holstered at his side. The water splashed and he nearly jumped. Stared at a swimming bug. Another. He reached the last tank. It was only half full of water. But he recognized the contents all too well. "John," he called.

The two men eyed each other across the aisles.

"You've got to see this," they said at the same time. Smiles quirked, were gone.

"What do you have?" John asked.

"Apart from things swimming in the aquarium of the odd? Iratus bug eggs. A lot of them."

John briefly touched his neck. "I hate those things," he muttered.

"You?"

"Mice. With mutations and deformities. This one," he indicated the cage in front of him, "has a Wraith sucker growing out of its back."

"Eww! That's just gross."

"It's right out of Lovecraft. This one almost has a, a human face," John remarked, wincing as he glanced down at the pitiful creature.

"Cthulhu lives," Rodney agreed, glancing down at a creature sprouting several tentacles as it swam in a tank. The almost human eyes blinking at him. "Hey! You've read Lovecraft?" he asked, astonished for a moment.

"What kind of experimentation is going on here?" John wondered, ignoring the question. He moved to another cage. Gulped. This mouse had babies. Tiny, squirming, pale naked things. Except they had strange sacs on their sides. Like a second set of lungs, breathing in and out. In and out. "They're breeding them..." he muttered. Strangely fascinated. Repulsed.

Rodney had moved to a computer console. Stared at the data scrolling there. "John...John, you won't believe this! This...this is quantum mechanics! This...these equations...they are for...for anomalies. A ninth chevron."

"Ninth? Anomalies, you say?" John asked, looking over as Rodney was leaning to examine the screen, seemingly engrossed by what he saw. "To the one we shut?"

"No...these are different. Different equations, different anomalies...a whole universe full of...whoa. This is...this is quantum physics! This is..."

"What? The Genii aren't that advanced," John retorted, frowning. He glanced round the hut. At the cages, the tanks, the vials and equipment. "What could they possibly hope to accomplish with all of this?"

The two men looked at each other, each at a loss. Each disgusted by what they were seeing. Each perplexed at the rationale behind it. The seemingly needless cruelty.

"A simple one, really. To bring back what was taken from me."


	2. Chapter 2

Propagation2

Moira winced. Sat back from the microscope, arching slightly and rubbing her lower back. Wishing that John was there, using his larger hands to rub away the knots and kinks. Could imagine his calloused fingertips, his long fingers stroking up and down her bare skin. Kneading the tension, the soreness from her. Engendering other feelings, other sensations.

"Nothing. There's not enough here to get any kind of DNA, let alone an idea of the species involved," Peter Harrison complained. "Moira?"

The voice jerked her out of her reverie. She sighed, straightening. Touched her abdomen as a cramp hit. "Same here."

"Are you all right?" the older man asked, watching in concern.

She nodded. "Yes. Just cramping. Carson says it's perfectly normal as the baby grows." She eyed the microscope. "I think we're going about this the wrong way."

"How so?"

"We're tackling it from the wrong angle, Peter. It doesn't make sense. Think about it. I was wrong. About the sub-Wraith. They're not the progenitors of the species. Just a side branch like their _Paranthropus robustus_ hosts. We're missing something. Something important. I just can't see it right now."

Peter considered, rubbing his chin. "How the two strands of DNA combine."

"Yes. It's all to do with the proteins, but I don't know how. How did these beings ever come to exist? Logically they shouldn't!"

"Yet they do. I see what you mean, Moira. From what we've discovered so far they may have two means of procreation. Arthropod for the drones, and perhaps mammalian for the more evolved members of the species. But how they increase their numbers is still a mystery."

"But where did they come from in the first place? And how? Never mind how they propagate. How do they even exist with two seemingly incompatible DNA structures? I'm telling you it's in the proteins! Carson would agree. There's a strange synthesis and it must involve the enzyme somehow! It–"

"As fascinating as that is, Moira, I don't think Weir or even Sheppard really care about their beginnings. They want to know how to fight them, combat them. They want to know how to end the threat to this galaxy," Peter argued.

"Doctor Harrison is correct." Both turned at the female voice as Elizabeth Weir entered the biology lab. "We don't need to know where they came from, Moira. Only where they are going."

Moira frowned. "But if we can understand the genesis of the species and find their place of origin we could understand how they even came to be in the first place!"

"That is not as important as finding out where they are going, where they are headed and how they seem to be able to adapt quite quickly. If there is such a thing as a super-Wraith out there we need to know how to combat it, or any other kind of genetic mutation they might engineer."

"But we–" Moira began to argue, hand still on belly.

"It's a waste of time and resources, Moira. An academic question. Not one we need solved right now," Elizabeth retorted. "Lorne's team has just been assigned a mission. If you are feeling up to it you can go along. Doctor Harrison, if you would direct your staff to the more important research I would greatly appreciate it." She eyed the pair, left.

Peter shrugged, met Moira's gaze. "You heard her, Moira. She seems to be tightening the leash on our research topics."

"You mean on mine," she muttered. Frowned. "We can do both, Peter. And I know this is important. I know it is! And John...John will agree with me," she decided.

"You had better get ready for that mission, Moira. We can pick this up later. At least the part we are allowed to research," Peter grumbled, disliking the orders as much as his colleague.

Moira sighed. Stood. Rubbed her back. Closed the sweater over her larger baby bump. "Whatever," she commented, not bothering to correct either that she was no longer on Lorne's team. She grabbed her data pad and headed to the infirmary.

Evan Lorne sighed. Looked round the 'Gate room. Thomas Kavanaugh was fidgeting with his scanners. The two marines were waiting, eager to go on the mission. Evan sighed again. Looked up at the control room. "Well?" he asked. Gestured.

"I've paged her twice, major. No response," answered Radek Zelenka as his hand hovered over the controls. "Should I dial the–"

"No. I'll go see what's keeping her. Even if she decided not to go she should still–"

"Major." Jason Reynolds entered the 'Gate room, moved to the other man.

"Major," Evan replied, curious at the interruption. "We were just going on a mission. Pretty routine, so I don't need any back-up."

Jason smiled. "I'm sure you don't, major. I just wanted to inform you. About Doctor Sheppard. She won't be accompanying you on your mission."

"Oh." Evan considered. "And she couldn't tell me that herself? If she's not feeling up to it I can understand that."

"It's not that. She's no longer on your team."

"What?" Thomas had joined them. He stared, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. As if that would clarify the other man's words. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse me?" Evan echoed, as flabbergasted as the scientist beside him.

Jason tried to keep the smug triumph from his voice, his face. "Doctor Sheppard is no longer on your team, Major Lorne," he repeated. "She has been reassigned to mine. Pending her condition, of course. I have Colonel Sheppard's full approval."

"I bet you do. This is the first I've heard of it. Excuse me."

"Major?" called Jason as the other man exited the 'Gate room, "don't you have a mission to lead?"

Moira stood, arms folded under her breasts, over the baby bump as she faced the doctor. Adopting the immobile stance of her husband. Although it wasn't as effective as a smile quirked at her lips as Carson's blue eyes sparkled with concern and amusement.

"Excuse me?" the doctor finally said, his Scottish lilt conveying his surprise.

"You heard," Moira stated, adopting her husband's stern, curt manner. But she smiled, unable to maintain it successfully. "I need samples of the Iratus bug's eggs. Specifically the enzyme sacs. I know you must have some leftover from treating John when he was infected with the retro-virus."

"Aye, I do. A wee amount. The question is why, Moira? I really don't think you should be handling that sort of material right now."

"What? Are you going to be as zealously overprotective as John?" she asked, frowning. Shifted her stance as a twinge hit her. "I need it for some research. What else would I do with it?"

Carson smiled, moved past her. "I'm sorry, love, but I can't release that to you. To anyone."

"What?" she repeated, stunned by his refusal. She turned to watch him. "By whose authority?"

"Doctor Weir's, love. Just relax, Moira. What are you researching anyway? The retro-virus? Are you feeling all right, love?" He headed for her, concerned as his gaze lowered to her abdomen. To her hand suddenly resting there.

"I'm fine! Why can't you all see that? Why is my research being blocked at every turn? Just because I am pregnant that doesn't mean I can't function as a scientist! As a full member of this expedition!" she flared, abruptly angry.

"No one thinks that, Moira. You are fully competent," Carson soothed, but she ignored him.

"Is that so? Then why am I being blocked at every turn? Why?" She slammed her hand on the counter. Power flared and the monitors shone brightly, scrolling data. "Oops." She touched her abdomen again, momentarily flustered. "Sorry. I need those samples, Carson. I have to find the beginning, and I don't care who tries to get in my way! It's important! You know that as well, Carson. We are so close now to finding the point of origin, and if we can discover how the Wraith came to be in the first place we could–"

"I agree with you, Moira, but I cannot release those samples to you. No one will prevent you from doing your job." He paused in his approach as if he was cornering a wild animal. He held up his empty hands. "Calm down, love. We can soon get this sorted, I promise you."

"Will you release those specimens to me?" she asked tersely.

"I'm afraid I can't, love. Not without the proper authorization. Tell me what you are researching and perhaps I can help you to–"

"Moira!" Evan entered the infirmary, eying her. "What the hell is this I hear about you not being on my team any more?"

"What? You're not on Lorne's team any more?" Carson echoed, clearly surprised.

Moira looked from to the other. Feeling oddly cornered. "No. I'm not. If you won't give me what I need I'll just wait for John because I know he will!" She strode between the two men, then past them, out of the infirmary.

"Moira!" Evan exchanged a glance with Carson. Hastened after her. "Moira, wait! Damn it," he muttered as he sprinted after her. "Moira!"

She whirled to face him as they stood alone in a hallway. "What? Didn't John tell you?"

"No! The last thing he told me is that you were assigned to team Sheppard, being himself. Is it true? You are quitting me for, for Reynolds?" he asked, a trace of genuine hurt in his voice, in his blue eyes.

"Yes."

"Yes?" he asked, but she was silent. "That's it? With not a word, not a single explanation, or an apology? Just yes?"

"Yes."

"Moira! Talk to me!" he flared, irked by her complacent tone. Stepped closer to her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"With me? What the hell is wrong with you, Evan? Treating me like, like I'm not who I am any more! Treating me like I'm no more than his, his fuck buddy? Like I'm no longer a competent scientist? Is it any wonder I want off your team when you can't see me for me any longer?"

"What? I can see you for you, Moira, or at least who you once were before he turned your head around! Look at you, Moira! You're not even making any sense now! What is it? Has all the constant sex addled your brain? Or is it the pregnancy?"

She frowned. "Shut up! That's none of your business!"

"It is my business when you suddenly up and decide to leave my team without even telling me!" he argued, stepping closer now.

"Then I'm telling you now, Evan!"

"It was him, wasn't it?" Evan decided, glowering. "That son of a bitch just decides to yank you out of my team and give you to some fucking toady, is that it?"

"No! Jason is one of John's trusted men! Trusted to defend me!" she flared.

"And I'm not?" Evan asked, angered.

"No...you're not," she admitted. "The decision was mine! It was me! My decision, not his! John had nothing to do with it!"

"Bullshit! He made you do it, didn't he? Took you off my team just to prove some damn point, like he owns you or something!" he flared, ignoring her words. "How could marry him, Moira? I mean, sure, the sex is one thing, and apparently he's quite good at that, but to marry him? To be carrying his child? Out here in another galaxy? Have you lost all reason? Have you just decided to give up everything you are, all of your science and your insights for what, an orgasm? For multiple orgasms?"

"What? No! You, you–" she spluttered, stunned. Blushed.

"And now he takes you off my team just for spite! To spite me, to spite you, but you are so blinded you cannot see it, can you? Can you see anything clearly now? And you say he doesn't trust me to defend you? What kind of bullshit is that?"

"It's the truth, Evan! You would protect me but not defend me."

"What? That's the same exact thing!"

"Not according to John. He–"

"Oh, I see! He makes all the decisions now, does he? You are just the good little obedient wife now, is that it? What a waste of your precious science, Moira! He–"

"No!" she declared, finally managing to break into his tirade. "It wasn't him! It was me! Me! My decision! I made the decision! It was mine to make! Mine!"

"Yours?" he asked, surprised. Staring at her as if he had never seen her. As if she had transformed into some stranger. "You...you..."

"Yes! Me! Me! It has nothing to do with John so stop it! Stop all of it! He loves me, Evan! He loves me! Me! And this baby! So just fuck off about the rest of it, would you? He–"

He caught her shoulders, moved her back against the wall. His mouth stopping her words. Halting her defense of John, her declarations about his feelings. Stopping all talk about her husband, as if that would stop her feelings as well.

Moira shoved, choked, so startled she couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Until the baby kicked suddenly. A savage motion in her belly that sent a spurt of pain through her. A hard kick that made her shove, shove Evan away from her. She stared at him, wide-eyed. Saw the same startled disbelief on his face, in his eyes. Without a word he strode away from her.

Moira stared after him, open-mouthed. Too stunned to react, to speak.

Until the baby kicked again. A cramp gripped her and she moaned, clutching her abdomen. She slid to the floor, wincing with pain.


	3. Chapter 3

Propagation3

John whirled at the voice, gun raised, ready to fire. Rodney did the same, although he glanced at the equations again, momentarily mesmerized by them. "You," John said. Recognizing the bald man as he neared. Empty hands help up in a non-threatening manner.

"We meet again, colonel." The bald man smiled, glanced at Rodney. "Doctor McKay, please, have another look. I'm sure you will find my equations fascinating, and possibly even understandable. Your primitive mind is more advanced than most."

"Gee, thanks," Rodney muttered, but kept his gun trained on the other man.

"What are you doing here?" John asked. Turning slightly, aim never wavering as the bald man moved along the aisle. His brown robes swept the floor.

"I'm a prisoner of the Genii. Or so they think. I have new test subjects arriving. The next step in my research. The question is, colonel, what are you doing here?"

"What is all this?" John asked, gesturing around the room with the gun . Trained it back on the man.

"Isn't is obvious? Oh...I guess not for you. You people inhabit the city of Atlantis yet know only half of its potential," the bald man sneered. "Primitives."

"You're an Ancient," Rodney realized. Gun lowering.

"Yes." The bald man smiled at him. "You really are the smart one, aren't you, Doctor McKay?"

"But I saw you die," John asserted.

"Yes, you did. I ascended. I can ascend when I wish to...call it a certain advantage I have because of my superior genetics."

John stared, gun lowering slowly, but still in his hands. "You have the double," he realized quietly. Feeling a weird dread when he recalled his son had the same.

The bald man met his gaze. "Hmm...maybe you are the smart one after all, colonel."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here," John countered, forcing his personal considerations aside.

"There weren't many of us, you know. Those gifted twice. My people first thought it was some kind of miracle. The power we had. You cannot even begin to imagine it."

"Oh, we can," Rodney stated, but a quick glare from John silenced him.

"So what happened?" John asked, tensing. Gaze darting past the man to the entrance. So far no Genii had interrupted.

"We became too powerful. And it was too dangerous. The twinned gene was unpredictable. Difficult to isolate. Even more difficult to predict or even breed for. At least naturally. And sometimes it killed the mother, or the baby in uteri."

John froze. His blood has turned to ice water in his veins. His stomach roiled. The grip on his lowered gun tightening.

"Not often, but it did happen," the bald man explained. Gestured around the room. "There were problems. Problems made worse by their so-called treatments. Made us hybrids. Sterile. But often the child thrived. Until those gifted were revered. At first. Then feared. Because of what we are. Or rather what we became. Then reviled. Exterminated." The fury and grief were evident in his voice, on his face.

"What did you become?" Rodney asked, glancing at John. As startled and dismayed by his friend at the information being imparted.

"You won't understand it. Even my people didn't understand it. Not fully. Not what we accomplished. We were hunted down. Hunted like animals to be slaughtered." A bitterness filled his voice. "Every man, woman, and child. Erased from existence, nearly."

"What did you become?" John asked tersely, echoing Rodney. He raised the gun again. A commotion outside drew John's attention. Voices raised in alarm, in anger. "Stop!" he ordered as the bald man turned, headed for the entrance. "I said stop right there or I'll shoot!"

"Go ahead, colonel. I'll just ascend." He turned, smiled.

"Colonel, copy? The Genii are headed your way, with prisoners," Teyla's voice came over the radio. "Wraith prisoners. Young ones."

"Come again?" John glanced at Rodney who appeared equally mystified. "What the hell are you doing with Wraith prisoners?" he asked, eyes on the bald man again.

"The next step. First I need them to feed to gain strength. Then I can access the tissues I need. Would you care to be their next meal, colonel?"

"No, no thanks. Answer my question. What did you become?"

"Guards! Guards!" the bald man called. "I've got intruders! Hurry!"

"Shit! He's not going to answer you, John! Time to go, John! John!" Rodney ran to his friend, tugged his arm. "Let's go! We are vastly outnumbered if you hadn't noticed!"

"No! Answer the fucking question! What did you become?" John insisted.

Ronon swore, crouching in the undergrowth. "Now?"

"Not yet," Teyla snapped, watching the retreating forms of the Wraith and their several guards. "Give them time to get clear. We do not want them turning back to us. Once there are less to fight we can secure the 'Gate."

"You take all the fun out of it," Ronon noted with a sigh.

Teyla rolled her eyes. Tapped her radio again. "Colonel, do you read? Colonel? We are in the process of securing the 'Gate. Copy?" She frowned. "I wonder why he does not answer."

"He's probably having more fun then we are," Ronon muttered. Grip on his gun. "Now?

"Not yet," Teyla repeated, shaking her head.

"John, let's go now! Ronon and Teyla must surely need us!" Rodney was trying to pull John towards the back door. He froze as the doors flew open and Genii soldiers entered.

"Sheppard." Acastus Kolya identified with a smile. As if pleased to see his nemesis. With a gesture the soldiers halted. Not a bullet was fired. "And Doctor McKay. You shall be the first to test our new weapon against the Wraith."

"Weapon? What kind of weapon?" Rodney asked, freeing John's arm.

"A neurological toxin developed by our friend here."

"He's not your friend," John informed curtly. Weapon aimed at Acastus. "He's an Ancient pursuing his own agenda. And he's coming with us."

"What?" squeaked Rodney, alarmed.

"What?" asked Kolya, surprised. Glanced at the bald man who was staring at John. But he quickly regained his composure. "Even so, he is helping us. You are seriously outnumbered, Sheppard. How are you going to even secure a hostage, much less take him from me?"

John smiled.

Teyla moved to her feet. "Now," she said quietly, but grabbed Ronon's arm. A series of clicks were sounding in her ear. "Wait!"

"What? What now?" Ronon grumbled, eying her. "Do you sense more Wraith or–"

"Quiet!" She concentrated, pressing her earpiece to her head. "It's Sheppard. Code. They need assistance. Covert. Let's go."

"You got all that from–"

"Yes! Come on! Leave the 'Gate for now!" she hissed, pulling him down the other side of the ridge.

Upon reaching the Quonset hut they crouched in the considerable shrubbery. Peering through the leaves. The young Wraith were being held in a corral. Still tied together. Guns trained on them by the Genii surrounding them.

Ronon shook his head. "Now what?"

Teyla considered. "We need a diversion. We need to free those Wraith."

Ronon stared at her. Rendered speechless for a moment. "You are kidding, right? We are going to rescue those Wraith?" he asked, incredulous.

Teyla replied, gaze never leaving the hut. "No. We are going to assist our people by creating a diversion. We are going to free those Wraith. Come with me." She began to manoeuver her way closer to the corral. Ronon shook his head, began to follow.

Silence. The hut was like a frozen tableau. John holding his gun aimed at the chest of Acastus. Acastus smiling, not even bothering to hold a weapon. Rodney training his gun towards the soldiers who were training theirs on the two men. The bald man standing between the two adversaries, seemingly unconcerned. Looking inconvenienced more than anything else.

"Reinforcements?" Acastus asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes. Baldy, you are coming with me. Back to your home. You will be so thrilled," John noted, gaze never leaving Acastus. "Rodney, secure him."

"What? Me? I...oh..." The scientist fumbled with his gun. Glanced round for something to use.

"I have no intention of accompanying you, colonel. My work here is far too important to be–"

A commotion interrupted. Shouts. Screams. Piercing cries of the Wraith. Acastus's gaze never

left John's. "Go see what it is and end it," he ordered. Soldiers obeyed, filing out of the hut. "Nicely played, Sheppard, but you are still outnumbered, and our guest here doesn't want to go with you."

"Tough. Rodney, secure him! Then we'll be going." John smiled grimly.

"You want to know what we became, colonel?" the bald man taunted. Smiled. "Why is this such a paramount interest to you?"

"I'll tell you if you come with me. Now."

"Okay, okay, here we go." Rodney grabbed some rope from a table. Approached the bald man. "Let's go. Believe me, we are much, much nicer than the Genii. And we have better food too."

Gunfire split the air. Bullets whined. A large blast blew the door wide. "Sheppard! Now!" Ronon shouted, waving his arm for the men to approach. But he whirled, firing his weapon not at the Genii but at the Wraith who were attacking.

"Crap. Let's go, now!" John ordered, but he fired his weapon as Acastus drew a gun and fired his. Both bullets went wide, shattering the tanks on one table. "Rodney, go!" John yanked his friend backwards, grabbed the bald man's arm. "Let's go, now!" But the bald man smiled. A light surrounded him as he ascended, evaporating from John's grip.

"John!" Rodney was all but hauling his friend towards the back door. "John, please! Think of Moira! If what he says is even half true she's going to need you! He's gone! Gone!"

John broke from his frozen stance. "Crap. Let's go!" He ran with Rodney towards the back door as the hut was flooded with Genii soldiers. Bullets zinged past him as he shoved Rodney through the door. Whirled to return fire. Suddenly he sprayed the hut full of bullets. Not hitting the soldiers but instead firing on the cages and tanks full of the strange monstrosities.

"No! NO! Stop him! Stop him!" Acastus cried in anger.

"Go, go, go!" John shouted, whirling. But Rodney was already taking off in a run, up the slope away from the hut. John raced after him, whirling again to fire his weapon.

Rodney dove into the underbrush. He turned on his knees, firing past his friend as John joined him. "Now what?" he snapped. "We've got half of the Genii army after us!"

"We need to reach the 'Gate! Teyla, Ronon, do you copy?" John asked into the radio. "Go to the 'Gate! Go!" He frowned. "We need to keep moving. They could easily pin us down here. Let's go."

"Go? Go where? There's miles and miles of nothing here!"

"Exactly! Go!" John pointed. "To the 'Gate! We'll meet up and go home!"

"Next time we are so taking the Jumper!" Rodney flared, but scrambled through the trees. John followed on his heels.

"Colonel! Understood! Go, go, go!" Teyla fired, whirled, and ran. "Ronon! 'Gate!"

Ronon grunted. Fired on everything moving. Then ran after Teyla as she rapidly disappeared into the trees. "They're on us!"

"Which? Genii or Wraith?"

"Both! Go!" he bellowed, whirling and firing.

"Having fun yet?" she quipped over her shoulder.

"Tons!" Ronon replied with a grin.


	4. Chapter 4

Propagation4

John trudged to his quarters. After a dash to the Stargate, bullets flying all around them they had made it safely to Atlantis. It was late in the night, the city all but lost in slumber. John curtly suggested the debrief would be better the next morning, and Elizabeth had agreed. He had dumped his TAC vest and P90 in the armory. He was weary. Dirty. In a foul mood wanting nothing more than to see Moira. He brushed off all questions, all concerns. Wanting his wife. It had been only a day but it felt like weeks since he had last seen her. The disturbing revelations of the bald man foremost in his mind. And now he had missed their first wedding anniversary.

He quietly entered his room. Paused. His bed was disordered, as if someone had been sleeping in it. He crossed the open threshold into their room. Mindful of the late hour his footsteps were silent. He stared at the empty bed. It was neatly made. Too neatly made, as if it had never been touched. He moved to the table. Saw a chocolate cake with two pieces missing. He smiled. Read the legend in vanilla _Happy 1__st__. Wedding Annivesa. _The rest of the word gone with the missing pieces. He saw wrapped presents. Reminding him he had his own to wrap. He fingered one, curious. Turned back to view the empty bed.

"Moira," he said needlessly. Obviously she wasn't there. His heart started to hammer. Fearing the worst. The bald man's words in his mind. How the mother sometimes didn't survive. How sometimes the child didn't survive. A dread filled him. He swiftly left, sprinting down the hallway to the infirmary. Hoping she wasn't there but he knew. He just knew.

John froze for a second. Moira was sitting up in a bed. Dressed. Looking physically fine but miserable. Utterly miserable. Her hair a messy ponytail spilling around her. "Moira! Moira! Moira!" He ran to her, neatly skirted a tray on wheels, swerved round another, never slowing his pace in his rush to be at her side.

Moira looked over at him, startled by his voice. Tears in her brown eyes. "John? John!"

He moved to sit close. Pulled her into his arms. "My God, my God, Moira, is it, is it–"

"No!" She suddenly realized, seeing the anguish, the panic on his handsome face. She held him back at arm's length so he would meet her gaze. "No, John! Nothing like that! I'm fine! The baby is fine! I swear! There is nothing wrong with John junior! The baby is fine!"

He hesitated, her words relieving him but her distress worrying him. Her firm tone incongruous to her appearance. "You...he's fine? He's fine? You're fine? You...are you sure?"

"Yes, John. The baby is fine," she repeated. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong. Just some, some twinges, some cramping...I...John...John..." she began to falter, crumpling in front of him. "John, oh John!" She dissolved into tears, flinging herself into his arms.

John held her, puzzled, anxious. Barely having time to take in her fuller curves. The larger baby bump under the opened sweater. His shirt was becoming damp from her flood of tears. "Ssh," he soothed, absently kissing her brow. Completely at a loss as she clung to him. "Carson!" he bellowed. Looked over as the doctor appeared from a back room. Rubbing his eyes. "Is it true? John junior is fine? Moira is fine?"

"Yes, John," Carson tiredly agreed. "They are both fine, physically. Moira had some cramping which is perfectly normal. She is fine now. John junior is perfectly healthy. A big, strong boy that she is carrying and he just needed some elbow room."

"Then why–" John began, not convinced.

"I don't know," Carson sighed. "She's been like this for a whole day now. Won't tell anyone, won't talk to anyone, not even me. I'm glad you are back, John. You need to persuade her to talk to you. Tell you what the problem is. This additional, sudden stress isn't good for her or for the baby. Moira, you've been having trouble sleeping because the baby is kicking?"

Moira had calmed somewhat. Secure in John's arms. His strength, his warmth surrounding her. She sniffed. Sat back and wiped her eyes. Silent.

"John junior's kicking?" John asked in wonder. Disappointed that he had missed it. His gaze lowered to her abdomen. He gently touched the larger baby bump, moving the sweater aside.

Moira eyed him. "Yes. Every, every time I try to, to sleep. Maybe he'll calm down since you are here, John."

John met her gaze. Kissed her, a gentle brushing of his lips against hers. He leaned down to kiss her belly. "This is your father, John junior. Stop kicking your mother, you hear? I'm here now to take care of her so stand down. That's a direct order." He straightened. "There. That should do it."

Moira briefly smiled. "Now why didn't I think of that, colonel?"

"John, take care of her. Take her to your room. Make sure she gets some rest and keep her relaxed. Moira, you will tell John whatever has upset you, love. Please. You are only harming yourself and the baby. Go. John, a word." The doctor gestured, moved to a table.

John rose. Moved to follow as Moira got off the bed, watching them. "Carson?"

The doctor spoke quietly. His Scottish lilt soothing in the quiet of the infirmary. "I've given her a very mild sedative, to ease the pain and to help her relax. It should kick in soon. When it does make sure she is in bed, all right?"

"Okay, of course, Carson. And you're absolutely certain she's all right? And the baby is fine? There's nothing wrong with either of them?"

Carson met John's gaze. "Yes, I'm certain. There's nothing wrong, except whatever has upset Moira. I've never seen her like this, John," he admitted.

"I need you to be sure she's fine and the baby is fine. I came across some new intel...about the, the double ATA," John informed quietly. "I don't know if it's reliable, though. I need you to check the database for any references to the Ancients, the ones having a double–"

"John? What are you two whispering about me?" she asked, sounding irate. She headed for them.

John turned, smiled. "Only how beautiful you are, sweetheart."

She snorted. "Nice try, John. What are you–"

John turned back to Carson. "We'll talk tomorrow." He faced Moira as she reached them. "Let's go, sweetheart." He took her arm, guided her out of the infirmary. "Talk to me, Moy."

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to alarm you about the baby."

"As long as you and John junior are fine that's all that matters." He waited. She was silent, walking alongside him. He tried another tack. "I'm sorry I missed our anniversary, sweetheart."

"It's not your fault, John. The, the galaxy's been crazy lately."

"Yeah, it has," he agreed. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"You don't have to do anything, John. It's not your fault. You're here now. That's all that matters."

"So it's not that?" he asked, frowning.

"No. It's...nothing." Her voice fell softly as she stared ahead of them.

"Yeah, sure, Moy. You always burst into a waterfall for nothing. Did an ex-girlfriend show up or something?"

"What?" she exclaimed, eying him. "No. Are there are any here?"

"No. Just checking." He led her into their rooms. "Will you tell me, Moira? What has you so upset? I'll fix it, don't you worry."

"That's what I'm afraid of, John," she muttered, disengaging her arm.

"What?"

"Look, why don't you open your presents?" she suggested nervously. Moving towards the table. She paused. "Oh! You must be exhausted, John! I'm sorry! How was your mission? You were delayed, I was told. But not in any danger, right? You probably want to clean up and go to bed," she realized, turning to face him.

"Slow down, sweetheart. Afraid of what?" he questioned, standing near the bed.

Nervously she moved to the table. Stared at the cake. "That, that you'll go all, all alpha male and overzealously protective and overreact. So I can't tell you, John. I can't! I...it's all unraveling, John! I can't do my work, I can't do my research, I can't even, even, even..." Tears flooded her eyes. She whirled. Flung herself into his arms. "Oh John!" she whispered, voice muffled.

John held her, stroking her back. Mind working furiously but he was completely in the dark. He kissed her brow. "No one will stop your work, Moira, whatever it is now. No one." He considered, as her grasp hadn't relaxed on him. As her tears were soaking his t-shirt yet again. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, realizing. "Lorne. It was Lorne."

Moira pulled back from him, staring. "How–"

"Ah." He freed her. Getting the confirmation he needed. He strode towards his room.

"John? John, no, no!" She followed. "You, you can't!"

John grabbed his 9mm form his holster at his thigh. He slammed in a new clip. Checked the safety. Shoved the weapon back into its holster. "If you won't tell me he will. Or I'll just shoot first and ask questions later."

"No! John! He's not here!"

He turned to her. "Where?"

"Off-world. On a, a, a mission," Moira stammered. Fingering her sweater.

"Fine. I'll track him down wherever he is and–"

"No!" She caught his arm as he made to move past her. "This is why I didn't want to tell you!"

"You haven't told me a damn thing, Moira!" he flared. "Your tears are enough. Now unless you want me to go hunt him down like a dog you will tell me what happened," he said tersely. Anger palpable. Visible in every line of his body.

Moira swallowed. Freed his arm. Sat on his bed. Hands clasped together. "We...we had an, an argument."

He waited, but she was silent. Eyes on her hands. Downcast. Almost huddling into herself.

"Not good enough." He made as if to leave.

She looked up at him. "No! John, please!"

"Then tell me, damn it!" he snapped.

She hesitated as he stomped to her. Stood in front of her, arms folded across his chest. "I can't! I can't tell you with you towering over me like that! Sit!"

He sat next to her on the bed. Watching her. "Moy?" he prompted, voice gentle.

Moira took a deep breath, released it. Stared at her hands twisting and twisting in the folds of the heavy sweater. "We, we had an argument. A big argument. A heated argument. He, he was pissed that I wasn't...um, wasn't on his team any more. Furious when I told him it was my decision, not, not yours."

"Furious," John muttered. Still. Quiet. "Go on."

She swallowed. Feeling hot. Feeling his gaze on her. Assessing. Scrutinizing. "Um...tempers flared. A lot. I don't think I can...that is...I can't quite...that is...I think...I think I've lost him, John." She met his gaze at last. Brown eyes full of tears.

John stared. An odd jealousy resonating. An old jealousy reasserting itself. "Come again? Lost him how, exactly? What did he say to you? Did he force you to choose between us?"

"No. There's no choice, John."

"No choice?"

"No choice because I will always, always choose you. There's no choice because it is always, always you. Always has been. It, it wasn't like that. It..." She watched as he stood, began to pace. Angry energy prompting him to move.

"Go on," he said tightly.

"I...um, John? I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have married you."

He froze. Turned to stare at her. "Come again?"

"I mean we, we should have remained lovers," she tried to explain.

"We are lovers, Moira."

"I mean we should have, should have stayed that way. As lovers, as..." She paused, uncertain. "Not like this. Not married. Not expecting a, a baby of all things. Not any of this because it has changed things irrevocably. But, but I love you, John! I want to be with you, in, in every way. I want to be your lover, your wife, the mother of your child! I want our private circle, our private happiness, our little circle! We've been happy, John, haven't we?" she asked, tearful again.

"Nothing but," he assured, relaxing a little. Jealousy gone. "So...what? What are you trying desperately to tell me but not tell me, Moira? Is this the, the Moira O'Meara, Moira Sheppard thing again?"

"Yes. And no." She sighed. "It's more complicated now. Because of the, the marriage. The baby. The way we um...the way we've been um..." Her voice trailed off into an embarrassed silence.

"Let me guess. The way we fuck?" he asked succinctly.

"John!" But she nodded. "Yes. The way we...no. The way I am. With you. Always, always wanting you. Still. Instead of well, as well as science you are my passion now. He doesn't see it."

"See what?" John asked, lost again.

"He doesn't see how much I...how I can be both. How my priorities are different now. Will always be. Now. You. The baby. Me. Atlantis. Work. I still need to do my work, John! They are trying to stop me! Like I can't do it just because I'm pregnant! Or because they think it's not important, just lower echelon stuff but it is important, John! It is!" She met his gaze, brown eyes blazing furious past the tears. "They just can't see it but I can! I can! I'm telling you, John, I have to be allowed to pursue this because it is important!"

"Okay, Moy. It is," he agreed. "You can work on whatever you wish to," he placated. "What else?"

"Um...horrible things were, were said."


	5. Chapter 5

Propagation5

John waited. He sat next to her. "Go on. Exactly what was said?"

"Did, did you mean that, John? About my work?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

"Yes, Moira. Of course. What was said?" he repeated.

"I was so angry, John. Having to defend myself. My work. Having to defend us. Our, our...the way we feel about each other. The way we...I mean...the..."

"I don't care what you said, Moy. What did he say?" John asked, feeling his temper rising again.

Moira shook her head. "What did he say, Moy? What did he do? Ah...he did something, didn't he?" he realized, as she flinched. "What did he do? Did he hurt you? Touch you? That son of a–"

"No. No, John! He didn't hurt me! He would never hurt me!"

"But he did touch you! Son of a bitch!" he flared. He was on his feet and heading for the door.

"No! John! He didn't touch me! Not exactly! John!" She ran after him as he crossed into their room. Rapid strides heading for the door. "John! Don't go! I need you here! John! I need you! It was nothing! Nothing! John, please! He, he kissed me! That's all! He oh oh..." she faltered. The confession spilling out her. Desperate to have him stay with her. She stumbled as he stopped.

"He what?" John asked. So softly that Moira almost didn't hear him. He slowly turned to her. Tension in every line of his body. Hands clenched at his sides. Expression grave. Furious. Softening seeing her own reflected shock at the memory.

Moira swallowed. Swallowed again. Stomach twisting. She hated to repeat the words. "He..." She blushed, eyed the floor. "He kissed me." Her whisper was a shout to him.

John stepped to her. Lifted her face to his. Saw her misery, her anxiety. Embarrassment. "How?"

"Huh?"

"How?" he repeated. "Not a friendly kiss on the cheek, I take it. So how?" His voice was mild. Quiet. A tide of anger just under it. Dancing in his brilliant green eyes. "I know it was more than a simple kiss because you are extremely upset. Moira?"

She stared. "John...promise me. Promise me you will stay here with me. Until he returns. I won't tell you unless you promise not to leave me."

John considered. Ran his thumb tenderly over her rosy, wet cheek. "All right. I promise. I will stay here with you. Now tell me."

Moira hesitated. Had to look away from the intensity of his gaze. She moved to his room. Sat on his bed. He followed. Noticed her choice. His bed. His room. His things surrounding her. She stared at her hands. "Okay. Okay, John. He, um, he kissed me. And I was so startled, so shocked I just stood there. Frozen. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe you were right, John. I mean you're right about a lot of things, of course, but I couldn't believe you were right about this. So he...he took hold of my shoulders, not roughly, not like that. And pushed, I mean moved me against the wall, like you do. No! No! Not like you do at all, no! And he, he kissed me. A real...like he meant to...so...I...I was shocked. I pushed. I pushed him back and the baby kicked. I swear the baby kicked at that exact moment."

She smiled briefly, touching her abdomen. "And, and that was the first time the baby kicked. Like he was defending me in your stead." She sobered. "He backed away from me. Stared at me, as shocked as I was. Then he left. Just left." Tears were falling. She wiped them away but couldn't stop it. The surge of emotion, of sorrow. She huddled. "John, John, I don't know why, or why now...or...John...I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I should have listened to you! I should have–"

"No." He gathered her into his arms. "No, Moy. It's not your fault. None of it is," he soothed quietly. "You are completely blameless. Ssh." He kissed her brow. Forcing the anger, the fury aside. Knowing he had to concentrate on comforting her, on the baby. Keeping her calm. Safe.

Moira clutched at his shirt, calming as his warmth enveloped her. His strength. His love. But she knew she had to deflect, deflate the anger. "John–"

"It's all right, Moira. I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Never you." He lifted her face to his. Kissed her. Kiss after kiss, tasting her tears, her despair. "Lay back," he said into her ear. She did so. He moved with her, onto his side, holding her close. Kissing her, caressing her.

"John, John," she sighed. "I know you are–"

"No. I'll make it all better, I promise. I love you, Moira." He kissed her again. Sat. "Let's go to bed, sweetheart. I'm beat, and you need to rest."

Moira sat, uncertain. "John? I know you are angry, and upset, and–"

"Of course I'm angry and upset! Another man, a supposed friend harangues, kisses and assaults my pregnant wife!"

"Not assaults, John! Please!"

"Sorry." He stood. Held out his hand. "Let's go to bed, Moy."

She stood. "Okay, John." She hesitated. Moved to his bathroom. Closed the door.

John stared a moment. Shook his head. He moved to their room. Yanked down the blankets on the bed. Moved to the bathroom and cleaned up, splashing water on his face, his hands. He stripped down to his boxers. Fingered the waistband debating, debating. With a sigh he moved to the bed, sat. "Moira?" He stood. Hearing the toilet flush. Water run. Then nothing. "Moira?" Concerned he entered his room.

Moira was standing in his room. The blankets pulled back on his bed. She was clad in a simple olive tank top, the green fabric leaving her arms bare, her shoulders. The swells of her breasts were visible as the material dipped down. Instead of the usual panties she wore a pair of his boxer shorts. The blue and white material loose on her, like a pair of shorts. Except when she turned and the fabric dipped a little to give him a peek of her rear. She turned suddenly. Eyed him. He merely raised a brow. "I...I can't get comfortable, John. Everything I have is too tight, too confining so I..." She touched the tank top she wore. "And I get so hot now." She turned back to the panel. Touched it.

"Okay, Moy. Whatever you need," he said, staring at the fall of her loose hair swirling down her back. He found the sight of her in his clothing sexy. The tank top revealing. The boxers hugging her rear now. The thought of his underwear caressing her intimately made his lower body tense with interest. He watched her press her palm to the panel. A light began to glimmer. John felt a perceptible breeze on his bare skin. Cooler air wafting from the vents. "You?"

"Yes. My superpower can control the temperature in our rooms now, just by thought," she explained. "I can't get comfortable and I'm hot. So I need it cooler. Okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart. But wouldn't you be more comfortable in our bed now? With me?"

She freed the panel, turned to him. "Oh...I guess. Since you're here now."

He smiled. Moved to her. "Yes, I'm here now, sweetheart. Let's go to bed. Any other new powers I should know about?" he asked, guiding her to their bed.

"Um...no...not really, I guess. John, do you want to open your presents now?"

"No. Tomorrow, Moira. I still need to wrap yours."

She swayed a little. "Whoa! I feel a little woozy."

John caught her, led her to the bed. "That's the sedative, Moira. Relax. I'm here now."

"Mine? You got presents for me?" she asked, as if in wonder.

He smiled. "Yes, Moy. For you. I'm glad to hear John junior is a fighter. Protecting his mother."

"Like you, John. John..." She yawned, leaning against him. "Oh John! The baby's kicking! Did I tell you?"

"Yes, Moy."

"Are you sure you don't want to open your presents?"

"Tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow, John," she observed. She sat on their bed. Pulled him next to her.

He kissed her, moving her onto her back. "So it is, Moy. Happy anniversary, plus one."

She laughed. "Happy anniversary, plus one. Oh! Plus two." She pointed at her belly. "Your son."

"My son, yes." He kissed her. "My wife." Another kiss. "My love." Another kiss. "My life." Another kiss. "My Moira."

She smiled, sighed dreamily, staring at him. Entranced by the soft, slow kisses. By his low voice. The loving words. His proximity as his body pressed against hers. "Oh John...oh John..." she whispered.

He reclined next to her, holding her. "Go to sleep, Moira. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Just you. Me. John junior."

"And chocolate cake," she said in the same dreamy voice.

He laughed. "Yes. And chocolate cake. Which I see you started without me, baby."

She giggled. "Sorry, sweetie. I was hungry." She kissed him. Ran her hands over him. "Oh John...do you want to have sex with a pregnant woman?"

He smiled. "Hmm...know any?"

"John!"

He laughed. "Later, baby, that's a promise. Now relax."

"I am relaxed, sweetie. Ooh, John, you're all dirty and grubby and yummy and rough and–"

"Yummy?" he questioned. "I'm not your chocolate, baby."

"Oh but you could be, sweetie," she said coyly. Giggled. She kissed him. Sat, laughing.

"What?" John asked, relaxing now that she was calmer. Flirting with him. The comfortable bed enfolding his weary muscles.

"It's funny, John."

"What's funny, Moira?"

"Us. This." She gestured around the darkened room. "Even this." She pointed at her belly.

"How is it funny?" he asked, beginning to become amused at her drugged, intoxicated state.

"Don't you see? This is all by chance! All of it! It was by pure chance that we met at all, on that mission that wasn't even yours! It was by chance we became lovers. It was by necessity, or expediency that you married me. Chance again. It was by negligence that you got me pregnant so soon."

"Moira," he tempered, irritated, "you know damn well it wasn't by–"

"Chance? Yes it was, John. All by pure, well," she smiled at him, "not so pure chance. This would be a real disaster if we didn't love each other. Don't you see, John? John! Am I the only woman you've gotten pregnant?"

He blinked at the change in topic. "Yes. You are the only one."

"Good! Good to know, John. Hey, John..." She giggled. "How many?"

John inwardly sighed. "How many what, Moira?"

She giggled again. "You know. Come on!" She nudged his arm. Coyly smiled. Leaned down to kiss him. "Hmm...so luscious. How many? How many women? How many lots some women have you fucked in the Pegasus galaxy?"


	6. Chapter 6

Propagation6

John blinked again. Staring at his wife, torn between amusement and irritation. Her brown eyes were shining, pupils large as the sedative was working its way through her bloodstream. She was smiling at him, her hair spilling deliciously along her bare arms, across the swells of her breasts.

"Excuse me?" he finally replied.

She giggled. "Come on!" She nudged him again. "How many? How many of your lots some women have you had sex with here? A total count, I mean. I won't be upset, sweetie. I'm just curious. I mean, come on." She nudged his arm. "You know. You know how fucking gorgeous you are. How every woman would drop their panties if you only gave the word. How every woman gets damp when you walk into a room. Didn't you tell me once that every woman wants your cock? You did!" she exclaimed, pointing at him. "How all women want your cock, but only a few wanted your heart. And only I wanted to get into your head and could understand the darkness. You did! So...how many? Double digits, I bet, you naughty colonel. Not triple?"

He had to smile at the expression on her face. "No, not triple."

"Whew! I didn't think so, otherwise your cock would have fallen off long ago," she said seriously. John bit back a laugh. "So how many? Is it in the twenties? The thirties? The fourties? Oh John, not the fifties? The sixties? The seventies! John Sheppard! Will you tell me? No? Well, let me see. There must be a mathematical formula I can use." She began to count off on her fingers. "X number of women here on rotation, minus all of the ones you wouldn't fuck, because let's face it, John, you can pick and choose the best. The very best and the most beautiful. Hmm...so figure in your type. I was told you have a type. I think I know what it is now. Was. Was, I mean, since I'm not it and you married me. That's awfully out of character, John,"she scolded, shaking a finger at him. "Where was I? Oh yes. X number minus the plain ones...oh wait. John, would you fuck a plain one?" she asked, completely serious. "After all, you fuck me...so, where was I?

"Moira," John finally broke in to her drugged rambling. Her absolute seriousness that made him amused despite his dislike of the subject matter.

"Wait! Wait!" She shifted, almost bouncing on the bed next to him. "What was the best?"

He sighed. "Moira, sweetheart, you are the best. Now why don't you curl up beside me and let those sedatives do their work, all right? You need to sleep."

"What was the best?" she repeated, ignoring his suggestion. "What was the best sexual experience, John? I won't be upset, I promise. It's all in the past now anyway. You are mine, colonel. Every inch of you, sweetie, belongs to me. So? The best? Oh! I know! I bet it's going down! Huh?" She giggled. "You do love when a woman goes down on you, don't you, naughty colonel? So...the best?"

John had to smile. She was alternately serious and silly. Voice becoming a little drowsy until she exclaimed with sudden insight. "Caramel syrup," he answered.

She stared at him. "Huh? Caramel syrup? Is that a stripper? Or a hooker's name? John! John, I can't believe you ever had to pay for it!"

"Ssh!" He laughed heartily. "No! Never, Moy. It's not a name, silly. It's you."

"Me?" she asked, as if startled. "Me? Oh...oh! Oh John!"she exclaimed, feeling tears, hand at her heart. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me!"

He laughed. "Really? Now that's funny!"

She kissed him, suddenly sprawling on top of him. "Oh John, you are the most hey! You're not just saying that to shut me up, are you?"

"No. I meant it, Moy. Every time with you is the best. It escalates."

"Oh. It does, yes." She kissed him. Ran her hands along him. "Oh John...so rough and ready, so eager to deploy that hard and big ordnance in my...oh! Is it? Is it hard?" She giggled, whispered in his ear, "You know, Jo-hn," she drew out his name, "I shouldn't be telling you this but..." She giggled. "Yours...your cock, you know...it's well...my God, John...it's so...it's the biggest I've ever...the hardest too...for so long, so long...always so fucking hard and you can go for hours, colonel! Hours! So big..." She giggled.

John laughed, stroking her back. "Good! Good to know, Moira."

She kissed him. Settled half on him. Legs sprawling open as she shifted. "John. The best. The best ordnance in the galaxy, I swear! And your tongue...my God! The things you do with just your tongue! Oh John! Do you want to have sex?"

"Ssh!" he warned as her voice became suddenly louder. "Later, Moy, I promise. Now go to sleep, please, sweetheart."

"Later?" She pouted. Settled against him. "Later, John...you better deliver on that promise, soldier! You know, John... we can have sex for a few more months until I'm too big to your son, John, your son! The baby's kicking, did I tell you? Lots some women so didn't they have your cock like I have the oh Evan, I've lost Evan and I don't know how to John, no John, my John, my John will stay with me..."

He waited as her voice became slurred. Words running into each other. Nonsensical. Sleepy. He kissed her brow. "Ssh, Moy. My Moira. I'll make it all better, baby, I promise." He closed his eyes as his thoughts darkened. Now that was she asleep he felt the anger he had shoved aside. His mind turning to her every word. Everything she had told him.

John stirred from his fitful sleep. He had been tossing and turning all night, finally gave up and just stared at the ceiling until falling into another doze. Moira hadn't been disturbed at all. She was sound asleep next to him. He sat, bleary-eyed. Anger flooded him. Pieces of dreams, disjointed images from Moira's words. Moira tearful. Upset. Afraid. Lorne shoving her into a wall. Forcing his mouth onto hers. Hands wandering over her. Moira sick. Losing the baby. Miserable. Lost. Alone. He rubbed his eyes. Moved, trying to extricate himself but Moira stirred, clutching his arm.

"John...no...oh John...John..." she muttered. Smile on her lips. A soft moan escaped her.

John smiled. Kissed her. "Naughty dream, Moy? What a bad girl." He slid his hand down her curves. She shifted under his touch, murmuring. He leaned close, kissed her. Opened her lips to his as his fingers slid between her legs. She rolled onto her back.

"Oh John, John..." she whispered.

He kissed her again, sorely tempted as his tongue glided, playing. As his long fingers opened the boxer shorts and slid under the fabric to feel her moist heat. Beckoning. Alluring. "Oh fuck," he muttered. But he pulled back, freeing her. "Go to sleep, Moy. I'm here."

"John..."she muttered with a smile, lost in a dream.

He waited until she was sound asleep again. Extricated himself gently from her grasp. He moved to the bathroom. Stared at himself in the mirror. Snorted, recalling her praise of his good looks. He was hardly gorgeous now. Exhausted. Pale. Unshaven. Hair a wild mess. Blood-shot green eyes that were cold, so cold. Murderous. He felt like killing someone. Felt the hot fury rushing over him. He scowled. Even sex with Moira had been ruined, delayed.

All because of Evan.

John stripped off his underwear. Turned on the water and stood in the shower. Let the hot liquid beat upon him. Pounding his muscles, his aches and pains. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. Recalling Moira's teasing comments, praises, invitation. Wishing she was with him now. In the shower. Stripped of her clothes and drenched. Amorous. He smiled, but shoved the erotic imagery aside. Grabbed the soap and shampoo. Once done he wrapped a towel around his waist. Fussed with his hair. Checked on Moira, padding to the bed on bare feet. She was still sound asleep. Curled on the bed, clutching the pillow. He smiled. Kissed her cheek. Moved to his room to shave, to dress. Thoughts darkening once more.

Moira woke. She sat, groggily looked around the empty room. "John?" She wondered if it had been a dream. His return. His company. His comfort and his love. His anger. Memory flooded as the last vestiges of the drug left her mind. She sighed. Sat there, not wanting to move. Wanting nothing more than to curl under the blankets and hide. To stay in bed. But she knew she couldn't. Regretted telling John everything. Regretted her drugged rambling. She wondered where John was. He had promised to stay with her but he had been furious. Murderously furious. Dangerous. She jumped off the bed, scrambled to find her earpiece.

"You look like hell, John."

John smiled at the Scottish voice. "And good morning to you too, doc." He entered the infirmary, scowled at the other doctors who suddenly found other things to do far away from the pair.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Carson inquired, although he could guess the answer.

"No. Moira did, though. Once she finally stopped talking. I don't know what you gave her but she was loopy! I mean drunk!"

Carson smiled. "Yes. It's quite a relaxant. But harmless. Did she tell you whatever it is that has her so very upset?"

"Yes. I'll take care of it."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Carson, I want the truth. Now that's it just us. I need to know if John junior or Moira were in any danger. Any at all. I need to know if she could have–"

"John! John Sheppard? Colonel John Sheppard, copy?" came her voice in his ear.

John held up his forefinger. "Hold on." He tapped the earpiece. Smiled. "Moira! Moira Sheppard? Doctor Moira Sheppard, copy? What is it?"

"Hilarious, John! I...you...where are you?"

"Getting you breakfast, sweetheart," he smoothly assured. "I'll be back in ten."

Moira relaxed, as she stood in the center of their room. "Oh. Don't you mean brunch?"

"Yes. Brunch it is. Did you think I'd left the city?"

"No...I...no. You promised me you wouldn't."

"That's right, and I won't. I'll be back in ten."

"Okay. That will give me time to shower and–"

"I'll make it five in that case."

"John!" She laughed. "Make it ten, sweetie."

"Ten it is, baby."

"Okay. Um...um...Sheppard, oh! Sheppards out!"

He smiled. But grew serious. "Carson?"

"John, it is important that you stay in the city with her. I cannot stress the importance of–"

"I'm not going anywhere, doc. Now I better bring her some food. You don't want to offer food to a pregnant woman and then show up empty-handed."

"True," Carson agreed with a laugh.

"I need to know. Were they in any danger? Could Moira have lost the baby?"

"No. They were never in any real danger. Not from the cramping. Unless it continues, which I doubt it will. If Moira's constantly stressed and anxious, then yes. I hate to say it but there is a very real possibility she could become ill, and a remote, I stress remote chance she could lose the baby. But that won't happen, John. She's strong and healthy. So is the baby. Whatever is bothering her you need to eliminate it."

"Understood. What about the ATA? The double," he lowered his voice, glancing round. "I was told it could become dangerous for her. For the baby."

"Who told you such rubbish?" Carson asked, frowning.

"An Ancient. To be fair he's not a reliable source, and certainly wasn't telling me out of kindness. But he's got it. The double, I mean. He made references to those who had it. How they were revered, then ostracized. How sometimes the, the mother didn't survive. How the baby didn't sometimes survive," John looked at the table, uncomfortable. "And how they became...became something. I couldn't get him to answer. I had him in my grasp but the fucker ascended just like that!" He snapped his fingers. "And was gone. One of their talents. The doubles. So I need to you to check all medical data pertaining to the Ancients and the double. And I need you to monitor Moira closely." He met the doctor's gaze at last.

Carson considered. Expression serious. "I will see what I can discover in the medical archives. But you don't have to worry, John. The double will not cause any harm to either mother or child. We're not Ancients. We're human. The Ancients were not the same as we are, at least as far as I can tell. But I will monitor Moira more closely. Have you told her?"

"No. A nd you won't either," John insisted to the doctor's surprise. "The last thing she needs is something else to be worried about."

"You can't keep this from her, John, however remote the odds are that she will experience any–"

"I said no, Carson. She doesn't need to know about any of that. I won't have her stressed more than she already is. No one tells her. No one."


	7. Chapter 7

Propagation7

Moira sat at the table in her room. She was studying a data screen, winding a strand of her damp hair round and round her fingers. She glanced at the cake, the wrapped presents. Squares and rectangles in colorful paper. Silver. White. With white ribbons and silver bows. She sighed. Shut down the data screen, frowning. Thoughts turning inward.

John smirked as he quietly entered the room. Moira was clad in a black tank top, black jeans. Black socks covered her feet. "You know, Moy, black is supposed to be slimming. But you don't need that, baby. You are pregnant."

"Hilarious, John. Shut up." He laughed. She turned as he neared, laden tray in his hands. "John, did we have sex?"

He paused. Resumed his walk to the table. Set down the tray. "Did we? Hmm...let me think," he teased. "No."

"No? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I think I'd remember, Moy. Even if you didn't. You, my Moira, had a very naughty dream this morning. Very naughty. And I was sorely tempted to take advantage of that but I let you sleep instead."

"Oh. Damn. I wanted sex, John," she complained.

He shrugged. Sat next to her. Ate a bite of toast. "Sorry, Moy. You were way too out of it."

"Oh. Yes, um, about that. John, I'm sorry. I remember most of what I said. God, that drug was worse than a beer! I'm sorry if I upset you . Interrogating you about your lots some women like that. You know, and the other stuff. Why do I always talk about sex like that when I'm drunk?"

He smiled. "Beats me, Moy, but I do enjoy it. Usually. Don't you worry, sweetheart. We're fine. Eat."

Moira sighed. Began to eat the pancake and waffles under his watchful eyes. She laughed suddenly. "Caramel syrup? I thought that was the name of a stripper?"

He laughed. "Yeah, you did. Adorable. You were so very serious, Moy. So very serious about sex and all. Absolutely adorable."

"Wonderful," she muttered, less than thrilled.

He leaned close, kissed her. "Now eat. Then we'll open our...oh. Crap. I still need to wrap yours."

She touched his thigh. "Can't we just have sex, sweetie?"

"Later, Moy. Behave." He stood. Kissed her cheek. "Better, baby? Good. I'll go wrap your presents. Keep that pert little ass parked right here and finish your brunch."

"Charming, John, as always," she commented. Watched him enter his room. She ate quickly, wondering how to get him back. Into their bed. Into her. Concerned at his odd reluctance to engage in any sexual intercourse. She smiled. Stood. "John...I 've been considering different textures," she called coyly.

"Textures?" he asked, wrapping a big box.

"Yes, sweetie. Textures. Consistencies. I've been considering this chocolate icing. It's smooth enough to spread over, oh, I don't know, skin, for example. But not as sticky as caramel, or as globby as peanut butter. It's very...lickable, John. Very."

John froze, listening. Leaning over the bed as he wrapped the present. He smiled, relaxing. Her teasing, her tone sounding more like his Moira. He was reacting despite his decision to refrain from any amorous pursuits just yet. He resumed wrapping, deciding not to reply.

Moira smiled. "John?" she called. "Jo-hn," she half sang.

He fumbled with the scissors, nearly cutting himself as her sexual invitation was obvious.

"It's strange, sweetie," she resumed after a moment, plotting, "but all of a sudden I've developed quite a taste for your cock."

A crash made her jump, whirl. Smile. Concerned she headed for the doorway. "John?"

"Fuck!" he mildly swore, as he dropped the big present. It fell upon his foot, then the floor.

"Are you all right, sweetie?"

"Fine, I'm fine! Just stay there!" He eyed the present, wondered how broken it was. "Please continue, Moira." He sat on the bed, rubbing his boot. His upper foot began to throb. Another part of his anatomy began to throb for an entirely different reason. He smiled. "Moy?"

"Don't hurt yourself, John," she called, added, "Oh John! Did you drop your big ordnance?"

"Hilarious, Moira! Please continue."

She laughed. "What was I saying? Oh yes." She moved to the cake. Uncovered it. "It's very strange, sweetie. I've developed quite a taste for your cock. With the appropriate covering, of course." She swiped some icing, licked her finger. "Mmm...I don't know why. I never thought I could do that, you know. Go down on you, all the way. The way you wanted. But I did. Eventually. Because it makes you so happy, so hard, so pleasured you practically growl with orgasms, John. It's true. And then when you take me afterwards...those times it was just incredible! But now...I don't know if it was the peanut butter, or the caramel, or just the taste of you in my mouth...but I have quite a taste. A, dare I say it? A craving for your cock. To take you into my mouth like that. If I did use this chocolate icing, though, I'd probably suck you hard for hours and hours."

She heard a step. A soft groan. Smiled. Scooped up a glob of icing on her finger hearing him approach. "What do you think, John? Maybe it's a pregnancy craving. For something big and hard to suck on. Should I ask Carson? Except I wouldn't know exactly how to phrase it. Hmm...let me see. Doctor Beckett, I have an inordinate craving to taste my husband's very hard, very stiff cock as long as it is slathered in something sweet." She paused. Felt him right behind her. Could almost feel the heat of his body. She turned to him. "John? Are you all right, sweetie?" She slipped her finger into her mouth, sucked the icing. Moaned. Slid her finger out and licked her lips. "Mmm...chocolate."

John had tried to resist, but was helpless under her verbal assault. Her voice serious. Provocative. Giving him such visceral images he became instantly aroused. So hard he thought he'd come in his pants. He stared at her, a smouldering intensity in his brilliant green eyes that made her instantly wet, tight. Her toes curled. He didn't say a word. Pulled her into his arms and kissed her. A long, sloppy kiss. Tongue playing on hers. Probing. Mouth devouring hers as his hands slid round to her rear. To grab. To squeeze and squeeze until she yelped, pushing.

"John!" She glanced down as his erection was poking her.

"Damn it, Moira! You really know how to make me rock hard with just that mouth of yours! Were you serious, baby? You sounded serious. But I can't hold this much longer." His voice was low, husky. Intimate. Male and intense.

She kissed him. "There is only one way to find out, sweetie. If you can hold it that long."

He smiled. "I have to take you first, baby, before I explode!" He kissed her, moving her to the other side of the table. He hoisted her onto it. Unzipped her jeans.

"John! You–"

"Is this okay?" he asked, yanking off her jeans. Eying the skimpy black panties before he yanked them as well. She shifted, lifted to aid him in their removal.

"Fine, John, oh John, oh John just fuck me, sweetie!" she enthused, undoing his pants, his shorts. Freeing him from the confines of his clothes. He was hard, eager, springing into her hands.

John moved her onto her back, kissing her. Hands sliding up over the baby bump, skimming under the tank top, under the bra to her breasts. "Ah, baby, fuck!" he enthused as her nails ran up and down the hard length of him. "Are you sure this is–"

"Yes! Please, John, please, you–" She gasped as he shoved her legs wide. Pulled her closer to the edge of the table. Shoved her hands off him and thrust into her. He groaned with relief. "Oh fuck! Fuck! Moira, so tight, baby, damn! So deliciously tight!"

"Ssh!" she warned, clutching as he was rocking the table, rocking her. Long, silken strokes as he eased every inch of him into her, out of her, into her, out of her. "Oh John!" she cried, the pleasure circling, escalating with each thrust, each kiss, each caress. " John! Faster!" she urged, pulling him closer. Clenching on him, wiggling to guide him, to arouse him. She whimpered.

John kissed her, thrusting deeper, harder. "Ssh, baby," he scolded fondly. Groaned as he was closer now. Tight and tense. Waves of pleasure enfolding him. Release a mere thrust away now. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeated the word with each thrust. Voice low, hot breath in her hair as he began to drive into her now. Rocking the table. A vase fell over. Flowers spilled. The empty plates trembled as if in fear of the excessive passion.

"John!" Moira cried, exulting. "Oh John, John, John!" She arched, moaning as the pleasure crashed into her, onto her. Orgasms sharp and sweet engulfing her. Reducing her words to inarticulate stutters. John groaned as he came. The release swift, strong. A tide of orgasm as he shuddered, spasms jerking him in that snug, wet heat he craved. He kissed her hard, muffling their cries, their moans. Quieting the ecstasy. The table rocked wildly. The tray flew to the floor. Plates crashing to the floor. Glasses following.

"Ah baby, baby...so fucking sweet," he growled.

"Oh John! Oh John, you oh!" she cried.

He thrust once more, deep, hard. Taking all of her as she took all of him. He slid out of her. Pulled her abruptly to her feet. Shoved her against him and kissed her deeply. "Moira. My Moira. So...icing now?" he teased. Laughed at her expression as she shoved.

"No! Ew! That is gross, sweetie! You–"

"Come with me before I fall down, baby." He led her to the bed. Collapsed onto it, pulling her with him. She snuggled next to him.

"Oh John, John..." she kissed him, marveling.

"Icing yet?"

"Shut up!"

"Come on, baby! I'll even clean my ordnance."

"Tonight, colonel! Now relax." She kissed him. Showered kisses on him. Caresses. "Oh John. That's exactly what I wanted. Sex."

"Mmm...sex," he agreed. Holding her close as they lay facing each other. "I'm so fucking tired, Moy."

"Then sleep, sweetie. You didn't sleep at all last night, did you? Sleep now, sweetie. I'm here."

"Want more sex, baby...want icing," he mumbled, sated. Secure with her in his arms. On their bed. Finally reunited in the most intimate way. "John junior okay?"

"Yes. Now sleep, sweetie." She kissed him. "I love you, John. I love you," she whispered in his ear. Kissed along his throat.

He smiled. "Love Moira, John junior. Love sex with my Moira. Mine. I'll protect you, Moy, always," he muttered. Hold tightening on her. "Stay here, baby. With me. Icing."

She smiled. "Yes, John. Sleep." She kissed him, snuggling.

He closed his eyes. Fingers tangling in her hair. Keeping her close, pressed to him. "Give me five, Moy. Don't you worry. What about work? Your work?" He opened his eyes again. Met her loving gaze. Let her love wash over him, her passion. "Who's stopping you? And what are you working on?"

She kissed him. "Later, sweetie. You're here now. That's all that matters. Besides, it's all very technical and involves science stuff and you'll be out in three if I start to talk about it."

He smiled. "Probably true, baby. But you do need to tell me. Everything, Moy. No one is going to stop you doing whatever you wish."

"Does that include keeping you here? Like this?" she teased.

"Yes." He touched her rosy cheek. "Seriously, Moy...who stopped you? And why? And what is it that you are–"

She kissed him again. "Ssh, colonel. Later. Relax, John. You need to sleep now. Ssh." She snuggled, resting her head on his chest. Body sliding along his.

"Okay." He closed his eyes. "I'm so tired, Moy...but we needed that."

"Yes, John, we did. Ssh now. No post-coital, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. Okay."


	8. Chapter 8

Propagation8

Moira waited until John had finally fallen asleep. Softly snoring as he reclined on his side, still holding her. She smiled. Slid out of his arms, off the bed. She pulled on her panties, her pants. Found a short-sleeved blue woven shirt to wear over her tank top. She glanced at the bed. John was still asleep. Shirt riding up to reveal his rumpled shorts and pants. She smiled, quietly left.

She approached Elizabeth's office, entered after a quiet knock on the open door. "Oh." She paused, seeing Rodney. "Excuse me. I just need a word."

"Moira, please." Elizabeth indicated the chair next to Rodney, who was staring at her. "I was just going to page John, actually, for–"

"Please don't." She glanced at Rodney, wondered at his stare. "That's what I wanted to tell you. John's finally asleep. He's exhausted. We were up all last night talking about my problems and the–"

"Problems? What problems?" Rodney asked quickly.

She continued, "–trouble I was having with the, the pregnancy." She touched her abdomen. "And I know he hardly slept at all worrying about me and the baby but we're both fine now."

"You had trouble? With the pregnancy?" Rodney asked, eying her belly.

Moira glanced at him, saw a look of dread pass over his face.

"Carson mentioned you were in the infirmary. Is everything all right, Moira?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, now. My point is he was up all night and needs to sleep, at least for a few more hours. I know he has a mission debrief but surely it can wait."

"Yes, we need to discuss that," Rodney said, looking at Elizabeth. "It's not every day we run into the Genii."

"The Genii?" Moira asked in surprise.

"And Kolya, who–"

"Kolya?" Moira echoed in alarm.

Rodney met her gaze. "Yes. That's why he missed your anniversary. We were stuck on M25PH9, outnumbered by the Genii and we had to see what they were doing. Found a macabre hut full of experimental horrors and the Ancient guy that John seemed to know was no help at all so we had to leave."

"You ran into an Ancient?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, but he wasn't a nice Ancient. Not at all." Rodney glanced at Moira again.

"The bald man? He's an..of course! That explains a lot," she remarked. "Rodney, what did–"

"I'm sure we can table the debrief for later, right?" Rodney asked, moving to his feet quickly, his words coming just as swiftly to avoid Moira's interrogation. "I mean I'm sure John needs his sleep, after all. We had to run for our lives from all of those Genii and then there were the Wraith young prisoners and the bizarre experiments and then the bald guy saying stuff to John and we had to run, we couldn't grab the guy because he ascended because of his and anyway I have work to do important work!" He backpedaled out of the room and whirled, hastening down the stairs.

Moira and Elizabeth exchanged a puzzled look. Moira followed after the scientist. "Rodney! Rodney!" He pretended he didn't hear her, hastening across the control room. "Rodney McKay!" she snapped.

Her tone froze the physicist. He tensed. Turned. Sheepishly eyed the floor as she approached. "Look, Moira, I have–"

"What is it? John didn't tell me anything. Well? Rodney?"

He met her gaze. Sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. "He, he said not to tell you."

"Not to tell me what? Rodney?" He was silent. She frowned. "Rodney, you really don't want to cross a pregnant woman, do you?"

"Um, no. Actually. Your, your pregnancy...you had troubles?"

"Yes. The usual that every woman has when the baby is growing. Why? Should there be something more? Rodney? Rodney?" She took his arm, herded him into a private corner. "What is it? Those experiments...the young Wraith...the bald guy is an Ancient who has a..."

"Double," Rodney quietly supplied. Sighed heavily. "Like you do because of the pregnancy. Because you are carrying John's child. Look, it may be nothing. The guy was hostile because we ruined his experiments. He had cages of mice, all deformed in some way, with growths of extra tissues and even a Wraith sucker. And tanks full of water and squid-like things I've never seen before, equally mutated but with human material. One had human eyes! And God knows what he wanted the young Wraith for. The Genii thought he was helping them but I'm sure, and John was too, that he had his own agenda. What did he say? Oh yes. He wanted to bring back what was taken from him. And the equations! Quantum mechanics and the ninth chevron! Computations for different anomalies, or something else...something..." His brow furrowed as his mind raced over it all.

"What did he say about the double?" Moira asked softly, mind working on what he had told her. Experiments with different tissues. Animal. Aquatic. Wraith. "Rodney?" She touched his arm, bringing him back to her. She neglected to correct his view that she had the double when in fact it was the baby who had the double ATA gene.

"Huh? Oh...that. A twinning gene, he called it. Said that it was rare. Said they were once revered, then ostracized. Feared. Hunted down to extinction. Because of it. Said that, that sometimes the, the mother died because of it. Sometimes the baby." He gulped, eyed her swelling belly. Met her gaze. "Moira, I...I'm sure it won't happen to you! None of it! Nothing will happen to you or to your baby, I swear! I mean, you're not an Ancient and John's not an Ancient so your baby isn't an Ancient and who knows what kinds of experimentation they did on themselves, right? Right?"

Moira nodded. Mind racing again. Realizing the reason for John's intense concern, even after she had reassured him all was fine. Realizing why he had kept it from her, considering her distress from recent events. "Yes, Rodney. I'm sure we'll be fine. We're not Ancients. And I have no doubt the Ancients did some kind of experimentation. Don't worry. Thank you for telling me."

"I...okay. Shit. John's going to kill me," he mourned, somewhat reassured by her calm tone.

She smiled. "No, he won't. Thank you, Rodney."

John stirred, snorted. Woke slowly from his heavy, dreamless sleep. He felt Moira next to him. He rolled onto his back, opened his eyes. Stared. Moira was eating a popsicle. Sliding its length in and out of her mouth. Its cherry redness lining her lips, her tongue as she slid it out of her mouth. Met his gaze and smiled.

"Hi John."

He smiled. "Hi Moira." He stretched languidly. Arms over his head, arching his back. Legs sprawling down the length of the bed. He yawned. Folded his arms under his head, under the pillow. "Please continue, baby."

She licked her lips. Ran her tongue up the side of the popsicle. He watched, absolutely riveted. A murmur in his throat. She slid the food in and out, in and out. Sucked at the gooey frozen treat. Bit off a piece. He winced. She smirked, swallowed. "I'm just eating a popsicle, colonel. Here." She ran it over his lips, between them as he opened his mouth. He bit, chewed. She pulled it back, resumed sucking on it.

John swallowed, shifted. "Fuck."

"Now, John, don't be so naughty. Such a naughty colonel. How do you feel?"

"Fine. Rested. Horny, now," he teased with a grin. But frowned. "Shit. I have that debrief."

"No, you don't. I got you out of it." She bit the popsicle. Offered him another bite. He took it.

"How?" he asked. "Fuck the meeting. I want–"

"The meeting? I thought you wanted to fuck me," she said sweetly, causing him to smile. She ran her tongue up the remaining popsicle. Circled the head. Tongue teasing, darting. Sucked at it slowly with an exaggerated moan.

"Fuck yes, I do. I...how?" John's thoughts scattered as her teasing was arousing the hell out of him. He freed the pillow, sat.

She laughed softly. "How? You seemed to master it quite well a few hours ago, John, or have you forgotten? The table?"

"What? No, no! Not that! How did you get me out of the..." he began to correct, but paused.

Moira was sucking, sucking with a whimper. She freed the popsicle. Bit and finished it. She set the stick aside. Pouted. "Damn. Now I don't have anything hard and long to suck."

He laughed. "Oh, you will, baby, believe me." He kissed her. "How?"

"John, really! You use that incredible ordnance of yours and deploy it in my sweet–"

"No!" He laughed. "How did you get me out of the debrief?"

She smiled. Pushed him onto his back. Kissed him, sliding onto him. Straddling as she sat. Only then did he notice she had removed her jeans and panties again. "The only debrief going on here, colonel, is yours. I am going to debrief you thoroughly, colonel. You are mine, sweetie. I I'm requisitioning you for several hours. I told them how exhausted you were, and worried over me and the baby so–"

"Ah. I was, Moy. You have no idea how worried I was. Are you okay now? I mean...oh fuck," he moaned as she gyrated on him.

Moira ran her nails under his shirt. Along his chest. Down his waist. "Who says I'm finished with you, colonel? Not by a long shot, sweetie." She kissed him, lifting up to brush along his growing erection. She circled, bit his ear. Grabbed his hands and pinned them to the bed. Fingers entwined with his. "You need to be disciplined, colonel. You withheld vital intel from me. For the best of reasons, I know, but still you should never withhold anything from me."

"Huh?" John was shifting under her. Body reacting to her wooing. Wanting her. But he was trapped under her, uncomfortable. "I don't, baby. What the...oh crap. Crap!" he flared. "Who told you? Carson? I told him not to...no. Rodney! I am going to kill him."

"No, you're not." She sighed. Kissed him. "John, you can't keep something like that from me!"

"Sorry. But you were hardly in the mood for more stress, now were you?" he countered. "Besides, nothing is going to happen. Not to you. Not to my son. Nothing. Don't you worry, baby. We'll get to the bottom of this, I swear. I swear to you we'll be fine. All three of us. Nothing touches our little circle. Nothing. Carson's checking all the medical data. And I don't even know if half of what that bald bastard said is true. Don't you worry, sweetheart."

She kissed him. "I'm not worried, John. We're fine. Don't you worry." She kissed him again. Shifting on him. But paused. Eyes locked with his. "But don't you ever keep anything from me again, John. Ever. No matter what it is."

"Okay, Moira. Sorry."

"You will be, soldier boy," she vowed, but the sparkle in her brown eyes made John smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Propagation9

John stirred. Rolled, but found himself entangled. He opened his eyes blearily. Blinked. He was alone. One arm was up over his head. His wrist still bound to the headboard by a silver manacle. He smiled broadly. Shifted on the bed, looking down his body. He was naked. Droplets of sweat glistened on his skin, in his hair. Although he felt a slight shiver as cold air wafted over him. He recalled the sex. Wild. Almost boisterous. Moira riding him. Riding him hard, nails clawing him, her body bouncing on his. Her mouth nearly biting as she kissed and licked and nibbled. Exhausted but happy he had fallen asleep right afterwards.

"Moira?" He reached up with his free hand to unhook himself. Sat. Stared round the shadowy room. Stared at the table. Candles flickered. Casting sporadic light on the presents, the cake. On the two covered plates of food. His stomach growled at the delicious aromas escaping. He stared at the two glasses full of wine. "Moira?" he called.

"Just a sec, John!" she called from the bathroom. "It's harder getting into this thing than I thought. You and your damn sperm."

He smiled. "Getting into what?" His mind filled with all sorts of lascivious images. "On second thought just stay out of it, Moy."

She emerged. Hair loose, cascading around her shoulders. A black dress was melded to her form. The V-neck revealing her breasts down to the lacy black bra. The curves of her hips hugged tightly as was the baby bump. The dress was sleeveless. She walked to the bed, legs and feet bare. She frowned, pulling at the material. Turning so he could see her rear snugly outlined in it. So clearly he could tell she had something very skimpy indeed between her and the dress. Something that left her rear nearly naked. Nearly. She turned back to him. "This is as good as it gets, John." She sighed. "It's hard enough to dress nicely, let alone try to be sexy."

"Fuck. You are beautiful, Moy. Shit. You are...wow. What's the occasion?"

She met his roving gaze. "Our anniversary, silly! We're having a proper dinner, then presents. No," she held up a hand as he moved to get off the bed, "dress nicely, John. Like it's a date."

He sighed. "Moy? I'm starving!"

"Dress up, sweetie. This is a special evening. Our first wedding anniversary, plus two. Now go!" She pointed to his room.

He smiled at her tone. "As ordered, baby. Geez!" he grumbled. Grabbed his scattered clothes and trudged to his room. Stumbled into the big present. "Ow! Crap."

"Something nice, sweetie," she called. "It's a date!" She sat at the table, waiting. Lifted the covers to reveal the food. She sipped some wine. "Tonight, John!"

"Just a sec! You said nice!" he retorted to her playful teasing. "A date. A dinner. After the fact, of course, like we need to have a date when we're married for crying out loud," he grumbled to himself, fussing over his clothes, his appearance. "Moy, there had better be icing like you promised me!"

"Promise? Did I promise? I don't recall that, sweetie," she teased. "Hmm...I'm not sure now."

"Hilarious, Moira!" He emerged, running a hand through his hair. "Happy now, sweetheart? This as good as it gets on short notice, baby. And I'm starving! The things I have to do for you, Moira Sheppard," he grumbled.

Moira smiled, staring dreamily at him. He had donned a black woven shirt, generously unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Black slacks enclosed his long legs. His feet were bare. He sat next to her. She leaned close, kissed him. "Thank you, sweetie. No! Wait!"

He froze. Put down his fork and knife. Woefully eyed the steak just waiting to be devoured. He sighed. Met her gaze. "Now what?" he whined.

She fingered the wine glass, smiled at him.

"Oh crap. A toast?" he asked in dismay.

She laughed at his consternation. "Yes, sweetie. It is our wedding anniversary! Our first! This may be old hat to you, John, but it's new to me! Being married and all."

"Should you be drinking wine?" he retorted.

"A glass won't hurt. Besides, I may get tipsy," she offered.

"Ah. Okay, then." He glowered. "But you still want a toast? Shit. Look, Moy, I'm not good at these things, you know that. You know how I feel, damn it! Why do I have to keep telling you? You know, all right? Geez, Moy! It's like you don't even listen to me when I do tell you, so why would I need to make some stupid, flowery declaration of my feelings when I–"

Moira laughed, cutting off his ire. "All right, John! Goodness! I know you hate the romance crap, the talking but wow!"

He smiled. "Yeah. I do. So can we–"

"Wait!" She studied him a moment. He fought not to squirm under her scrutiny. Feeling like one of her specimens under a microscope. "You know, John...I never thought...I mean...can you believe we've been married a whole year? It doesn't seem like it to me."

"Nor to me, sweetheart," he replied, relaxing. Resigned to wait. His stomach growled.

She smiled. "In a sec, sweetie." She grew serious. Touched his hand as it rested near the plate. "I never thought I'd be married at all. Certainly not to you. And certainly not five months pregnant on our first anniversary. Plus two."

"Yeah. I never expected that either, Moy. Me and my damn sperm. But I want our son."

"Yes, I know. I'm just saying how–"

"Yeah, you said last night. Chance. Expediency. Negligence. Not at all, Moira. We may have met by chance but you initiated our relationship and I actively pursued you. We wed quickly, but we were going to be married in any case. We may have been overly passionate on Pleistocene Park but I would have gotten you pregnant eventually. So nothing is by chance. Not a damn thing." He fingered her wedding ring. "I'm a colonel, Moy. I plan out every strategy, every possible outcome. Even the unexpected ones have contingency plans."

He licked his lips, eyes on the gold band encircling her finger. "I knew. I knew we'd get here. Not when but I knew we would. It's all I ever wanted. You. Me. John junior. So no, it wasn't my chance. It was...us." He met her gaze. "Okay? Can we eat?"

She smiled. Felt tears. Leaned to kiss him. "Yes, John. I'm starving! If you didn't talk so damn much!" She laughed at his scowl.

"Hilarious, Moira!" He smiled.

The plates were clear of food. Moira was nibbling on the last piece of her chocolate cake. John downed the wine in quick swallows. He met her gaze. "There's still plenty of icing, baby."

"Open your presents, flyboy."

He leaned close, kissed her. "I'd like to start by opening you." He stood. "But I'll go get yours." He crossed to his room. Carried in some presents, making two trips.

Moira smiled. "All that? When did you–"

"What? Like I didn't know this was coming? I'm leaving the big one in there. I think it's broken anyway."

"What is it?"

"Never you mind. Now, open your presents, sweetheart. I'll open mine. Then...hmm...icing?"

She laughed. "You are becoming obsessed with–"

"Yes. I am. Aren't you? Don't you crave it, Moy?"

"Shut up!" But she giggled.

He laughed. "Ah, you do! Sweet! This is going to be so fucking good, Moy. Maybe too good. Maybe we should take it to the sex room. And don't you worry. I'll return the favor. Repeatedly. Until you beg me to stop."

Moira shook her head. "Sure you will. You'll be out in five, colonel."

He laughed. "Probably. Maybe I should do you first, baby." His gaze wandered over her. "I'll have to peel you out of that dress, though."

"Open your presents!" She smacked his hand off her thigh.

He kissed her. "As ordered, baby."

Moira smiled, pleased at his reactions to his presents. His enjoyment of the football DVD set. The dark green woven shirt with subtle gray stripes. His laughter over the miniature fighter plane set. The gray t-shirt with the legend _Galaxy's Sexiest Dad. _His satisfied smile at the photos she had made for him. One of her in the white dress with roses. The one she had worn when they had gotten married. One in the sexy green dress she had worn on their impromptu honeymoon. She touched his knees at his silence. "John? It is what you wanted, isn't it? Photos. Decent photos of me. I had Katie take them months ago when I could comfortably fit into those clothes and not look so, um, pregnant."

He smiled. Met her gaze. Set the photos aside. "It's exactly what I wanted, Moy. All of it. Especially this." He tapped the photos. "They're not wedding photos but they're close enough. And I can frame them."

"Yes. You–"

He leaned close and kissed her. A long, passionate motion of his mouth on hers. "Thank you, sweetheart. Now you." John sat back, enjoying her reactions, her exclamations. Her smile at the books on paleontology. The larger sized shirts. One with the legend _Sheppard Baby On Board. _Her laughter over the skimpy black lace bra and thong. With matching black fuzzy socks. Her gasp at the golden bracelet lined with hearts and diamonds. Her smile at the little white bear dotted with red hearts, a match to the white and green one. He wondered at her silence over the way she held the last little box in her hands. "Moy? Look, I know it's extravagant, but the second I saw it I knew it was for you. From me. I was told it was a birth stone. You know, for the birth of a baby. Our baby. Because you are. Having a baby. My baby. Our baby. Moy?"

She met his gaze, tears in her eyes. Setting the box aside as she held up the ring. It was a simple gold band. A tanzanite gemstone in a heart shape glimmered, its blue and violet hues rich and lovely. Two diamond hearts adorned it on either side. "John...you...I...you...I love...I love everything! Everything! But this! This...it's too much!" she declared. "Do you have any idea how rare this gemstone is? How exotic? How expensive! Damn it, John," she cried, moving to her feet, "we have a baby on the way! A baby! Your baby! And you can't be throwing your money around on such exquisite, beautiful things such as this no matter how rich you are! It's so beautiful, John! Do you have any idea how beautiful it is?" she asked, sitting again. Staring at the ring as if she was entranced.

He smiled, amused at her haranguing. "Yes, I do. Why else do you think it reminded me of you, sweetheart?"

She looked at him, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Melting. "Oh John..."

He grinned. "Whoa! That was good, wasn't it?"

She laughed. Stood. "John..." She pulled him to his feet, sliding the ring onto her finger. "I love you, John!" She hugged him.

"I love you, Moy. Happy anniversary. Plus two." He kissed her.

She drew back from him. "Hey! What about the big one?"

He smirked. "Oh, it's right here, baby. Locked and loaded. Only waiting for the icing."

She laughed. "No! I meant the big present!"

"Oh? Oh! The one I broke? Yeah, that?"

"That."

He kissed her again. Kept kissing her as he guided her towards the bed. Hands wandering over her body. Feeling the skimpy underwear under the dress. "Delicious, Moy." He pulled free. "I'll get the icing."

She pulled him back to her. "No! I want my big present, John."

"I'm getting it, baby, and believe me, you will be getting it too, don't you worry."

She laughed. "Not your ordnance, sweetie! Fine! I'll go look myself!" She moved to his room. Stared at the big rectangular package in shiny blue paper on the floor. She knelt, folding her legs under her. Touched it. "Wow...it is big. And hard."

He laughed, moving to her. "You could have discovered that as well, baby. Very hard. And big."

"Stop it! Can I unwrap it?"

"Absolutely." He moved in front of her. Caught her hands and drew them to his zipper. "Here."

She laughed, pulling her hands free. "No! That!" She pointed past him.

"Oh. That? No. There could be broken glass, Moy, so no."

"Glass? What is it?"

"Let me see if I can fix it first, all right? Here." He drew her to her feet. "Let's go." He led her back into their room.

"You could at least tell me what it is," she sulked.

"Can't. Classified intel, baby. Unless you seduce it out of me. But be warned. I'll only talk for icing. Icing on my cock," he clarified with a smile.


	10. Chapter 10

Propagation10

Moira laughed. Pushed him back. "Fine, silly! I do have a yearning for something hard and big to suck. Mmm...I could have a popsicle." She laughed as he pouted. Pushed him onto the bed. Moved to her knees between his legs as he sat. She ran her hands up his thighs, paused. "Damn. Scoot closer, sweetie. John junior is in the way."

He laughed, did so. "That's funny, Moy."

"Ha ha,"she sighed. But kissed him. Slow, sweet kisses as her hands ran up his thighs again. She nibbled his lower lip. Crossed to his ear to circle, to bite until he groaned. Ran her mouth down his throat as her fingers slid up to finish unbuttoning his shirt. She kissed down his chest, opening the shirt. Scooted back, leaned down to reach his waist. To undo his pants. The zipper. John ran his hands through her hair, down her back to pull up the dress. To reveal her bare rear, the sexy thong of black lace. Moira paused. Smirked. Looked up at him. "Commando?"

He smiled. "Yeah. I figured we'd have sex, so..."

"Quite confident, aren't you, colonel?"

"Yes, doctor." He groaned as she caught hold of him.

She sat back, frowning. "Hmm...it's not big enough."

"What?" he exclaimed.

She laughed. Freed him. Stood. "I'll get the icing, sweetie. Take off your pants." She moved to the table, the dress falling back down over her rear. She scooped a generous clump of chocolate icing from the cake. Returned to the bed. John was comfortably sprawled on it. Legs slightly spread. Erection jutting. She smiled. Moved onto the bed. Kissed him repeatedly as she messily slathered the icing on him. Fingers playing as he grew harder. Harder. He moaned.

"Fuck, oh fuck, Moy. Damn it! Take off that dress and fuck me, baby! Suck me!"

"Ssh!" She kissed him, slid down. "As ordered, colonel." She smiled wickedly at him. "You better hold on tight, sweetie. You know how I love to savor every bit of my chocolate. I am going to suck you dry, colonel, of every little bit of that sweet, sweet icing. Until you beg me to stop," she enthused.

John sighed in bliss. In agony. In pleasure and tension, pain and desire. His hands grabbing the blankets as he shifted, shifted. Groaned and grunted loudly. As Moira made him impossibly aroused, impossibly hard. She slowly licked all along the hard length of him, tasting the mix of chocolate icing and him. Nibbling up and down, up and down until he swore profusely, writhing under her. She finally teased the head until he felt tears of tension, of lust, of joy. She took him into her mouth and sucked. Sucked the icing hard. Biting all along him now. Tongue swirling. He arched, lost his breath, clawed the blankets. Every muscle tense. Balls so tight as she tickled them, captured them, explored every inch of him until he groaned loudly. Thrust as he was rocked with shivers, with spasms. Came wildly, helplessly. Thrusting repeatedly as she freed him, caught him between her thighs. He strained, swore, spurted as he released, released. Shuddering as the orgasm rocked him.

Moira caught her breath. Wiped her mouth. Slid off him to sit next to him, heart racing. Flushed at her actions, his exclamations. Flooded with her own desires. With his. "Fuck," she muttered, impressed. Made a face as his semen was spilling along her thigh, along her panties. "Happy anniversary, plus two."

John caught his breath. "Fuck! Moira, my God! Moira, you did suck hard...so fucking hard...oh fuck that was amazing! Give me a sec..." He reached over, touched her hip. "Baby, baby, lay next to me, please."

"In a minute, John." She licked her lips, tasting the last vestiges of chocolate icing. Of him. She used the dress to wipe her thigh. Laid next to him, snuggling close. She kissed his throat, his lips. Caressed his chest. Fingers playing gently. "John...you...um...you certainly enjoyed that."

"Yes. Fucking fantastic, Moira. My Moira...I don't need icing to bring you, baby."

"Go to sleep, John." She closed her eyes.

He kissed her. "I'll make sure I'm clean but you were very thorough. Very," he enthused. Wiped himself off with a blanket. Turned to her. Moved her onto her back. Began to kiss her.

Moira opened her eyes. "John? John... isn't necessary, I mean you–"

He kissed her. Ran his hand up her thigh. Between her legs. "Really? Not necessary, Moira?" he asked, voice husky as he felt her wetness, her heat. She gasped as he caressed boldly. "Relax, baby, and enjoy the ride."

"I...John...I...no. No. I'm not quite comfortable with the, the baby bump, er bulge, er–"

"You're so fucking beautiful, Moy! How can you not see it?" he wondered. "I want every inch of you, baby. Baby bump er bulge er whatever and all." He slowly slid the dress up. She tensed, but he kept moving it. Sat and pulled her up to yank the dress off her. He removed his shirt. She colored as his gaze wandered. Passionate. Warm. Her breasts were all but popping out of the lacy push-up bra, and the tiny triangle of the thong was shadowed by her hair and her dampness. He kissed her, moving her onto her back. "Relax," he intoned. "I love you, Moy. All of you. Both of you."

Moira tensed all the same, even though the room was dark. But John's hands wandered all over her. Removing the bra, the panties with teasing strokes. He kept kissing her, tongue gliding. Hands caressing, probing. Making her murmur. Making her arch and squirm. The need escalating hotly now. His kisses slid sloppily down her throat. Down between her breasts. Circling each one, then kissing, sucking each hard nipple to make her moan, whimper. She clutched at him, stammering his name over and over.

His kisses moved gently over the baby bulge. Down to her thighs. Up to shove her legs apart. To fondle and search, to suck until she cried out, helpless. The pleasure grew, grew. Nearly unbearable, flooding and tightening in response, in need. Her voice caught in her throat, in her moans and whimpers. In the oh John litany he loved. His fingers slid under her, gliding, probing every sensitive spot. Seeking tender flesh as he felt her tremble, tense.

"John! John, please, please, stop, stop, please, oh John oh John oh John!" she pleaded, her voice a rasping stammer, rising higher and higher as he was relentless. The agony unbearable, so close to coming but he wouldn't let her, kept her suspended on a wave of passion, suspense. Tears flooded her eyes as the pleasure spiraled, spiraled.

He freed her only to slide up and thrust into her hard, but careful of the baby bulge. Feeling every inch of her as she clenched, arched. Cried out loudly as the climax slammed sharply. His name a cry on her lips over and over. Pulsing now over him, yanking him in deeper, deeper. Making him thrust harder, faster.

John groaned, coming again. Rocking the bed, rocking them both as they came in tandem. Bodies locked in passion, in release. She all but melted under him, an ecstatic cry trailing into a whimper of pure delight. He thrust a few more times. Kissed her deeply, possessively. A final shudder and he slid out of her. Rolled off her. Pleased he had given her so much pleasure, assurances. Love. "Moy..."

"Fuck! John!" she gasped, catching her breath. He chuckled at her reaction. She closed her legs, wiped her eyes. "My God...you..."

"John junior okay?"

"Yes. He's used to that by now," she commented.

He quietly laughed. "Yeah, he better be. Happy anniversary. Plus two."

Moira sat. Shoved her hair behind her. Stood and quickly moved to the dresser. She pulled on a sleeveless nightshirt. Moved back to him. "Oh John." She sat, staring round the room. Body still thrumming from the sex, the pleasure. The passion.

John smiled, watching her. Ran his fingers up and down her lower back. "You okay, baby? Did I rock your world, or what? Fuck, you owned mine. Fuck. From now on we are keeping a supply of chocolate icing on hand at all times. I'm not kidding, Moira."

"Okay, John."

He sat. Turned her face to his and kissed her. A long, savoring kiss. "Moira," he said low, gaze boring into hers. "What is it? Talk to me, sweetheart. Ah. Your work. Who is stopping your research? What do you need? I'll make damn sure you get whatever you need, Moira."

"I..." Her gaze fell. She touched his chest. Fingers plying his dog tags. His chest hair. Met his gaze again. Serious. "It's important, John. I know it is. But no one believes me."

"I believe you, Moy."

She smiled. Kissed him. Pushed him onto his back. She snuggled next to him, holding onto him. "I love you, John!"

"I love you, Moy. So? Research?" He stroked her back, fingers tangling in her hair. "Let me guess. Wraith? Migratory patterns in reverse? Or the DNA stuff? Proteins?"

She smiled. "Wow...you really do listen to me between fuckings, don't you?"

He laughed. Lightly swatted her rear. "Yes, baby. Once in a while. Between luscious fuckings."

She kissed him. Propped herself onto her elbow. Stroked his hair as she gazed upon him. "All of that. But more. With the proteins. I'm narrowing the parameters of the search. To find the beginning. Exactly how the Wraith came to be in the first place. And that means I need to analyze all of the chemical reactions, the proteins, the enzymes, all of it. I need the Iratus bug eggs, the enzyme from them. Think about it, John. It's not the bug that turned you into a Wraith. When that bug fed on you it wasn't just feeding on you. It was draining you. It was taking your DNA as well as your vitality."

"I know. I remember," he commented, touching his throat. "Wait...and that didn't turn me into a Wraith. It just would have killed me. What turned me into a Wraith was that chick. When her blood mixed with mine. The retro-virus."

"Yes. Think about it, John. It was the chemical reaction. The enzyme, but something else. The retro-virus just expedited the event, and altered you into something other than a Wraith, actually." She sat, her words coming faster as she became intrigued, excited. "The same as Ford's altered men. But the effect is different on the ATA carriers, like yourself. You rejected the enzyme's massive doses, remember? And when the Wraith feed on an ATA then don't get the ATA gene material. But somehow the other Wraith in that alternate reality got round that...the harvest, the breeding program...harvesting embryos with ATA..." She touched her abdomen briefly. "I wonder how a double would effect them, if it would have any other outcome. It's all in the RNA, John! We've been looking in the wrong place. And the Medea gene...the...I really need Carson on this genetic stuff to be certain but I think, I think the key lies in the chemical reactions...but how the Wraith came to be in the first place I don't know. Yet. If we can find the point of origin maybe we can discover it. John?"

He was staring at her. Blinked. "And that's why you need the Iratus bug eggs?" he asked.

"Yes. The original source. I think. The answer is there, somewhere locked in the RNA coding. I think. That man..." She sat, looking away from him now. "That man said he had a double. Called it the twinning gene?"

"Yes."

"And how it was a rare thing. So it sounds like they couldn't breed for it. So they must have manipulated it somehow." She frowned. "All those biochemical reactions."

He sat. Turned her face to his and kissed her. "Never mind all of that now, Moira. Nothing is going to happen to you. Or to John junior. Nothing. Now let's go to sleep. I'll get you those eggs and whatever else you need."

She relented, reclining in his arms. "John? I need something else too."

"What? Whatever it you can have it, Moy. I'll get it for you. What do you need?"

She smiled at his serious tone. Kissed him. "More chocolate, colonel."

He grinned. "Sweet."


	11. Chapter 11

Propagation11

Moira stood in the control room looking down at the Stargate. The wormhole had shimmered, then dissipated as Evan and his team stood. She watched John as words were being exchanged. As the rest of the team were dismissed. As more words followed. Except John was doing all of the talking and Evan was listening. He glanced up once to see her. Consternation on his face.

Moira's pulse raced. She hesitated, then steeled herself. Reluctant to face Evan again. Nevertheless she hastened into the 'Gate room.

"...and we will discuss this after the debrief," John finished.

"I...I can't believe she told you–" Evan began.

"Of course she told me, major. Moira tells me everything. My wife. Carrying my son. My Moira tells me every single thing. Let me just say now that if you ever touch my wife, or place my wife and son in any danger, or cause my wife to lose our baby like she could have this time I will kill you piece by fucking–"

"John!" Moira exclaimed, reaching them. S he caught his arm. "It wasn't like that! It was nothing like that! The baby was never in any danger!" She paused as the baby kicked.

Evan met her gaze, shocked. "I...I didn't know...I..."

"Save it!" John snapped. "I don't want to hear it."

Moira's hand slid down to John's. She pulled his hand back to place on her abdomen. John felt her. Felt a nudge against his palm. He turned to her, gaze falling to her belly. Eyes full of surprise, of love.

"Was that–"

"Yes, John. He just kicked again," she confirmed.

John smiled. Spread his fingers to feel another nudge. "He just did it again!" he marveled. "Does he kick this hard all of the time?"

"Hard? That's nothing compared to last week," she corrected. "That's just a tap." She glanced at Evan, mouthed the word go.

"Really? Wow," John commented. Eyed her belly, seemingly oblivious to Evan. "Relax, John junior. I'll take care of your mother now. I'll protect her from every problem." John raised his eyes to her as she was looking at Evan, then him. "He was kicking harder last week, wasn't he, Moira?" his gaze froze into ice. "Did I say you were dismissed, major?"

Evan froze. "No, sir." He headed back to them as Moira glanced worriedly at the pair.

"Sweetheart, is this the first time he's kicked since I've been back?"

Moira met his gaze, startled. "What? Um, yes. He hasn't been kicking at all since you got back to Atlantis. Until now." She felt uncomfortable. John's hand splayed on her abdomen. It was an oddly intimate moment between them. His touch warm, protective.

"Until now? Isn't that interesting, Moira? John junior hasn't kicked once since I've been with you. Until now. Until this very moment. As if he sensed the need to protect his mother yet again." He looked over his shoulder. "Oh. Lorne, you're still here?" he mocked. "Dismissed. Debrief in thirty. Then we'll have our little talk."

"Yes, sir."

John watched him go, gaze narrowing. An icy fury filled him.

Moira touched his hand, still firmly pressed to her belly. "John? Was that necessary? You, you were rather, um, you–"

He met her gaze. Coldness receding. "Yes."

"John, John, I think I should...John, I need to talk to you. Please." She took his hand, freed it. Took it again. Led him from the room.

"You need to relax, Moy. Everything's fine."

She was silent, leading him to their rooms. Once they were alone she freed his hand and moved to the table. Stepping past the fallen wrapping paper. She eyed the gifts. "Um, John...I think I should be there. For your little talk."

"Okay."

"I know you don't want me there but I think I could maybe balance things, keep a lid on your temper. Because you do have one, John. You have a temper and if you make things worse by...what? Okay?" She whirled to face him.

He moved to her. "Okay. I'd rather you weren't there, Moira, because it is going to be very, very ugly. And I don't want you and my son exposed to that . I don't want you upset. But if you insist I won't stop you."

She stared. Felt tears. Eyed the floor. "I...I don't want to be there but I feel I should be there."

"Then don't be there. If you don't want to be there, then don't be there. But if you do then do. Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Stop! Stop being so nice to me! How can you be nice to me when I've fucked up this whole thing! And I don't know how to fix it, John! I don't!"

He pulled her gently against him. Arms enfolding her. "Ssh, Moy. You're not to blame. For any of it. Unless you were to be blamed for being so beautiful."

She pushed out of his arms. Hit his chest. Tears in her brown eyes. "Stop it! Damn it, John, I'm not! I'm not! I'll be as big as house soon because of your genetic–"

He kissed her. Drew her into his arms again. "Ssh. Even then you will be beautiful, Moy. Relax. I'll handle it."

"I'm sorry!" she sulked, calming. Voice muffled against his chest. "It's these damn hormones, mood swings, the whole ugly situation! You and your–"

"Damn sperm, yeah, I know," he agreed. He drew back to kiss her. A long, loving kiss. "Better now, baby?"

She smiled. "Yes, sweetie."

"Good. Relax. I'll get you what you need for your work after the talk, okay? Don't you worry. I'll handle everything, Moira."

"Okay, John. Thank you. Um...what you are going to say to Evan?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure yet. Don't you worry." He freed her, eyed his watch. "All right. The debrief shouldn't take too long. So give me an hour. Then I'll have that little talk if you want to be there. Okay?"

"Okay, John. I...I'm still not sure." She touched her abdomen. "The, the baby..."

"Whatever you decide, sweetheart. Whatever is best for you and the baby. Don't you worry. This gets resolved today. And you can get back to your science stuff."

John sat. Lazily reclined in the chair, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He watched the men leave the conference room. All but one. Evan sat across from him. Expression neutral. Trying not to fidget under John's emotionless gaze. Until the silence became unbearable.

"Um, sir...I'm sorry. I never meant to–"

"Touch my wife again and I will kill you," John said mildly. Voice low. Serious.

"I don't know what happened, sir! I would never hurt Moira! I would never harm her or the baby! I swear! I don't know how I lost control like that. We were so angry. The argument became heated and personal and I don't even know what I did or why I did it and I–"

"Harm my wife or my son ever again and I will kill you," John promised. An edge to his mild voice that made Evan visibly gulp.

"I'll never do anything like that again, sir! I swear! Is Moira all right? She looks all right? I never meant to upset her, sir, or the baby, or place either of them in any jeopardy! I just...I just..." he spluttered.

"My wife. My son. Got it? Remember Parrish? Berkely?"

Evan gulped again. "Yes, sir."

Moira stood in the control room, staring up at the conference room. At the closed door. Rodney joined her, looked up as well. "How long have they been in there?" she asked.

"About five minutes. Why? What's going on? We need the room," he complained.

"They'll probably be in there for an hour or–"

The door opened. "Or not," Rodney corrected. "What's going on, Moira? Do you know?"

"Yes."

"Yes? Then what..." Rodney paused. Watching as John emerged. He looked at them. Nodded at Moira and moved to Elizabeth's office.

"Oh oh. That can't be good," she commented.

"What can't be good? Moira?" Rodney asked, at a loss.

She tensed, watching Evan step out of the room. Descend the stairs. Head straight for her.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me I can always–"

"Rodney, wait!" She caught his forearm.

"Wait? Why? I don't have time for–" he began in exasperation.

"Please, Rodney, wait,"she urged. Rodney paused, hearing the tension in her voice. Feeling it in her fingers as they clutched his arm. She stared at Evan as he reached them.

"Um, Moira...I...I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I was way, way out of line, I know! I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you or, or jeopardize the baby or..."

"What? You jeopardized the baby?" Rodney exclaimed. His loud voice drawing all eyes to them. "How?"

Moira merely nodded, unable to speak.

"We need to talk," Evan continued, ignoring Rodney. "Privately. Later. Okay?"

Moira nodded again. Evan retreated. Rodney stared after him. Moira relaxed, freeing the physicist. "Thank you, Rodney."

"Wait! What was that about? What happened? Is the baby all right? John! Does John know? Does...John!" Rodney was hastening up the stairs in alarm.

"No! Rodney, wait!" Moira called, but sighed as the physicist ignored her.

Elizabeth was frowning. Hands folded in front of her on the desk. "Excuse me?"

John was standing behind a chair. Had ignored the invitation to sit. "You heard. Moira is to have complete access to whatever she needs for her work. And that includes any restricted materials like the Iratus bug eggs and all Wraith tissue. She will take the proper precautions, I am certain. And any access to any data, and her migratory tracking equations, and–"

"John, I'm sorry, but I just don't see the relevance of her work right now. We don't need to go backwards. I don't care where the Wraith came from or how they developed," Elizabeth argued. "We need to know where they are going, if they are evolving, and how best to combat them now! Not at some remote time in their past but now in our present! Our present time, John. And in the future. The future that your son is going to live in. Can't you see that?"

John considered. Hands on the back of the chair. "Yes, I do. Of course. But if we can understand where they came from, how they came to be we will have an edge against them that they may not even be aware of. And I am in favor of any kind of edge over them, Elizabeth. For now and in the future."

"It's academic, John. I 'm sure it's fascinating, and from a scientific point of view relevant, but we live in the real world. We don't have time to argue theories and backtrack like that. I can understand how you want to humor your pregnant wife right now but we need to–"

"What? I'm not humoring her! She has valid concerns, and this is valid research. Why can't you see that, Elizabeth? Frankly I'm surprised you can't. Aren't you always the one pushing for more scientific advancement and exploration? Well, here it is. And the relevance? Come on! Even you can see that? The Wraith are our mortal enemy, and everything we can learn about them, every bit of intel, whether it be about them now, or in their past, or in their future needs to be explored."

"John! John, did you know?" Rodney burst into the room, ignoring the glares of its occupants. "How were Moira and the baby in jeopardy? You have to do something!"


	12. Chapter 12

Propagation12

"What?" Elizabeth stood, alarmed. Opposing viewpoints momentary forgotten. "Is she all right? Is the baby all right?"

"Yes. They're both fine now," John assured, "and will continue to be fine. Moira gets all that she needs for her work." He turned, stepped past Rodney.

Rodney whirled, followed his friend down the stairs. "What happened, John? What happened between Moira and Lorne? And you're sure she's all right? You're sure the baby's all right? Did you know about this? Was it a mission? Was it–"

"It's handled, Rodney," John assured, moving towards Moira who was standing by a console, watching. Worry on her face. "Moira, you can–"

"Handled? How? John, what the hell happened? I swear if Lorne hurt Moira in any way he'll have me to answer to!"

John smiled. Turned to the anxious physicist. "I'll let him know that, Rodney. Thanks." He turned back, took his wife's arm. "Let's go, Moira. I was saying that you can–"

"And the baby, John! You need to make sure that nothing happens to that baby! Your baby! I'll make sure of that too, you can rely on me!"

John met his earnest gaze. "Thanks, Rodney. I'm sure between the two of us we can keep Moira and John junior completely safe. Now," he turned back to her, "as I was saying, you can–"

"Good. Don't worry, Moira, everything will be fine," Rodney assured.

Moira smiled. Moved to him. Kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Rodney." She took John's arm, led him out of the control room. "Now what are you trying to say, colonel? What did you say? To Evan, I mean. It didn't take that long..."

"I was succinct," John stated.

"Oh. Still, you, you didn't pull a gun, or shoot him. Or hit him? Did you? No. You...you did something. Did you threaten to...oh my God! John, did you threaten to kill him?" Her voice fell into a hush as they stood in the hallway.

"No. Don't be ridiculous, Moira. I didn't threaten. I promised."

"John!" she exclaimed. "Look, I was, I was upset. I overreacted! I overreact to everything these days! I–"

"Oh. Okay, then. Guess I was wrong," he said mildly, guiding her down the hallway. "I thought you minded having another man's tongue in your mouth."

"John! No! I mean yes! I mean no! Of course I hated it! There was no tongue! I never said there was tongue! I was talking about your tongue earlier and I think you got confused and I where are we going?" she rambled, as they turned the corner away from the living quarters.

"What I was trying to tell you, baby. You can do your work. Get what you need. It's handled. Sorted. No more stress, sweetheart. You know what I need right now?" he asked.

"A beer?" she guessed. "Oh John! You, you sorted it with Weir! I can have my samples and–"

"Yes. You can have whatever, Moira. But yeah, I need a beer. Maybe two. And oh."

"Oh?" she asked, as he suddenly guided her gently against a wall.

He smiled. Kissed her, stepping close. Closer. "And sex. Sex with Moira Sheppard. Maybe even, oh, I don't know...icing again?" He raised a brow, making her giggle. "I'll clean my ordnance just for you, baby."

"Hilarious, John. You–"

"That's if you can take all of me, like before. As big as I am. The biggest ever, right?" he teased, brilliant green eyes sparkling.

She snorted. "Shut up! You would remember that! In my defense I was drunk, er, drugged."

"Whatever. Even so it was the truth." He kissed her. "Just the memory of that makes me so fucking hard. I want it, Moira. Do you? Do you crave it, baby?" He ran his mouth along her throat as his hands slid along her sides, her hips. "My Moira, so fucking sweet," he intoned against her skin, in her hair. "So fucking beautiful my cock aches for you, baby."

She laughed, pushed him aside. "Shut up, John! You and your considerable ordnance! The most incredible cock in the galaxy, I swear!"

He laughed. "Damn right, baby, and don't you ever forget it. So? Can you take it, baby? Can you take the stick?"

She laughed. "Not right now, sweetie! Actually...I'm hungry."

"Hungry? Oh. Okay. Hey," he sidled up to her as she turned, began to head for the cafeteria, "I've been thinking, baby. About this new, exciting taste you've acquired. You know. Something big and hard. And long. And sticky. Better than caramel syrup even, right?"

She snorted. "Stop it, John!" She elbowed him, moving to get some food. John grinned.

Moira sat at a table with Carson. She stabbed her fork into her food.

"Um, Moira, I think it's already dead," the doctor noted.

"What? Oh...sorry. I'm fine," she said to his concern. "It's all right. John."

"What's he done now?" Carson asked tiredly, but smiled.

"Nothing. Just being a man," she retorted. "He can be so damn infuriating one minute, and then so wonderful the next!"

"Yet she comes back for more. And more." John joined them, sat down next to her. Scooted her over until she was almost against the wall.

"John! Go sit somewhere else! What are you doing here?"

"Eating lunch, Moira, the same as you." He eyed her full plate. "Just not as much. Ow!" he complained as she elbowed him. "Not even Rodney eats as much as you do now that ow!"

"Shut up! You! You and your–"

"Damn sperm, yeah, Moira, I know. The whole base knows," he boasted with a smile. "Hey, Moira, I do like to watch you eat. Especially popsicles."

"Shut up!"

He laughed. Carson shook his head. "John, don't antagonize your wife."

"You know, Carson, this isn't going to be over soon enough!" Moira complained. "This is a very inefficient method of procreation, of propagation."

John smiled. "It may be inefficient but the methodology is quite, quite pleasurable."

"I was talking about the reproduction itself, not the sex," she chided icily.

"Oh. I see. Still," John said, voice lowering, "you should see my back It's a road map."

"John," she warned.

He ignored her. "A road map of pleasure," he confided with a grin, a wink.

Moira swore. "Will you shut up! Carson, I'm sorry!" she stated as the men laughed. "He's in a mood!"

"I'm in a mood?" he taunted.

"Where was I? Oh yes, reproduction. I was trying to have a scientific discussion if you don't mind, colonel," she informed, glaring at him.

"So was I," John quipped.

"No, silly," she patted his hand, "you were discussing sex. Now let the grown-ups talk about reproduction, there's a good boy." Carson laughed. "Where was I? Oh yes. It seems very inefficient. I know it's a more evolutionary, advanced method to propagate the species but the gestation period is way too long! And then you have a helpless infant that requires round the clock care for an extended length of time. And though it does make the societal bonding more cohesive it still is–"

"Don't you worry, sweetheart," John interrupted. "My son. He'll be self-sufficient, like me," he boasted.

She sighed. "Carson, don't you agree?"

Carson smiled. "I'll take your word for it, love. You know far better than I ever could."

"Of course she does, doc. But let me tell you this. Even a biologist doesn't know everything, right? What was it you were discussing earlier? Oh yes. Something about cravings? Size ratios? Comparisons that you've made, with limited data to be sure, but nonetheless you reached the conclusion that you have never tasted a bigger, harder, or even longer hey!"

Carson laughed as Moira dumped the entire contents of his plate onto John's lap. She glared at him. Stood. "John Sheppard! I swear to God if you don't stop talking about that I will treat it like it is a popsicle and devour it in one bite! And then hang it on the wall like a fucking trophy! Got it, colonel?"

John smirked. "Um, yeah. Got it, doctor. Mrs. Colonel." He sighed, eying the mess on his lap. "I would have to choose something messy today."

Moira and Carson laughed. "Serves you right, flyboy. Now scoot! I've got work to do, and you need to change your pants."

John scooted out, stood. "You know, Moira, if you want to help me with–"

"Not another word or I will dump your precious beer!" she threatened.

"Whoa there, Moira!" John held up his hands in surrender. "No need to employ drastic measures!"

She turned. Moved to him. He froze, not knowing what to expect. But she smiled. Kissed him. "Thank you, colonel. For getting me what I need to work. Carson?"

The doctor nodded. "Aye, love. Wraith lab. I'll be along presently." He waited until she had left. Turned to John who was wiping at his pants with a napkin. It was a futile effort as he was soaked with food and sauces. "I take it you had Elizabeth's orders rescinded?"

"Yes," John answered. Met his gaze. "Whatever Moira needs. And you are to help her. I can't believe you refused her."

"I didn't. I was just following the mandate. To be honest I am quite intrigued by what she is working on and we need to see where it leads."

"And the other? The double?" John asked quietly.

"So far, nothing. There's very little in the database, but I'll pursue older records. So far there have only been scattered references. Anything concrete has been expunged."

John frowned. "Of course it has. The Ancients would want to cover up their dirty little secrets."


	13. Chapter 13

Propagation13

Moira sat back from the microscope. Rubbed her eyes. Rubbed her lower back. Stretched. Sighed. She removed the slide, inserted another. She checked a data screen. Scrolling chains of information. The double helix of the DNA. The RNA encoded in a different color. The chemical chains of the enzyme. The Hoffan serum. The natural defense in Ronon's system. A hand touched her back and she whirled on the stool. Relaxed. "John."

He smiled. "Easy, sweetheart. I forgot to ask you."

She glanced down to his changed pants. Back to his face. "Ask me what? If it involves that cock of yours I do not want to hear it," she warned.

He smirked. "Really? I find that hard to believe. In fact I find it very hard and okay, okay," he relented at her glower. Smiled. "What is our new schedule? Looks like you need a nap, sweetheart. So?"

"Oh. No, I've got too much work to do here now that I can. Thanks to you." She smiled. "John, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to take the flak on this one. Again."

"Not a problem, sweetheart. Anything for you."

"Really? In that case could you get me the next set of samples? They're in the other room on that table."

"Okay." He kissed her. Strolled into the other room.

"Do you see them, John? A rack full of vials. Little glass tubes of–"

"I know what a vial is, Moira!" he snapped in mock irritation. Causing her to smile.

"Sorry, sweetie!" She viewed the next sample. "The answer is here, somewhere. Somewhere in the biochemical reactions, but we have to go back further. I think that evolution was interrupted. No, it was tampered with in some way until it took over."

"Talking to yourself again?"

Moira tensed. Looked up to see Evan walking towards her. "I–"

"I'm glad I caught you alone, Moira." He pulled up a stool to sit near her. "We can finally talk in private."

"Um...I..." she stammered, expecting John to come out of the lab at any moment.

"I'm sorry, Moira. Truly. I was such an ass. I never meant to hurt you, or upset you, or make you possibly lose the baby. I couldn't live with myself if that had happened."

"The baby wasn't in that kind of danger, Evan," she assured. "The baby was in no danger whatsoever."

"Oh? That's not what the colonel said."

"The colonel was very worried about me and the baby, that's all. He wants to make absolutely certain we are well and safe."

"Oh. Still...being that upset can't have been good for either of you." He glanced down at her belly. Back to her eyes.

"No, it wasn't," she agreed.

"And you were upset enough to tell the colonel everything. Everything," he repeated, embarrassed. "I'm surprised he didn't shoot me on sight."

"He almost did," she agreed. "I had to tell him. Everything. I don't keep anything from John. And I had to tell him. Not just for me. I have to think of the baby now too."

"Of course you do, Moira. Look, I'm sorry. I know I've harmed our friendship. Irreparably. Everything hit me at once. Losing Josephes. Then you leaving my team without a word to me. You..." he sighed. "You being with the colonel and all. To the extent of marrying him and now carrying his son."

Moira colored, aware of John in the other lab. No doubt listening to every word. She was worried, yet reassured he was so close at hand. "I should have told you first, you're right. But I was upset. Very upset. And I didn't want to face you again. As for the colonel, well...we...it just sort of um, happened."

"It's just...I thought...I thought you'd be on my team always. You know? And only leave if, if we...you know. Then here comes the colonel, on a mission not even his. He sweeps you off your feet, away from me. And frankly I'd expected you'd be back to normal, you know, in a few weeks. Like the others. I just couldn't see you two together."

"Yes. I know. One of his lots some women. But that didn't happen. We connected. We have things in common, in our pasts. Tragedies that no one could understand. Could even begin to understand until we met each other. You have no idea how deep our bond goes, Evan. I don't think either of us expected to find someone like that. Someone who truly understands the, the darkness. But we did. And John, John loves me. Loves me in spite of it. Maybe even because of it, I'm not sure. And I love him. I love him. Even the darkness because it's a mirror to my own. So you see, it's so much more than mere passion. More than, than sex. It's everything."

Evan nodded. "And you couldn't find that with me."

"No. I never thought I'd find that with anyone. I gave up trying years ago. I didn't think I was deserving of any of that. I was afraid that history would repeat itself. I still fear that...sometimes. But John, John makes all that darkness go away. He makes me feel loved, and cared for, and protected. Understood. Accepted. And I think I make him feel the same way. At least I hope I do," she mused. Serious. Forgetting he was in the other room as they talked.

"Wow. I never...I mean, I didn't know there was so much beneath the surface. I can't believe there would be any darkness in you, Moira. But you really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes. I do. And I'm not exaggerating either." She looked at the microscope. "I'm not entirely who you think I am, Evan. Who you see. But John, John sees me. Sees all of me. At least what I've been able to tell him so far, and he still loves me. Accepts me. Understands me in a way you just can't."

"Okay, Moira. I seem to have misjudged you and vastly underestimated him. I'm sorry. Truly. I'm sorry for all of it. I want to fix this but I don't know how."

She smiled. Met his gaze. "I said the same thing. I think we need time. Time apart. For now. To adjust, accept. I need to spend time with my husband. You need to go on a date. It shouldn't be hard for you. I know plenty of women who would love to go out with a certain major."

Evan smiled. "Really? Do you have a list of these women?"

"I can get you one."

"I would appreciate that, Moira. Okay. Time and space. Then we'll see how we are. I can do that. I'm glad we talked."

"Me too. I'll get you that list."

"Thanks. But don't put that geologist on it. What's her name?"

"Julie? Of course I will! I think you'd make a lovely pair!"

He groaned. "God, no! I can't stand her and she can't stand me!" He stood. "I'll let you get back to your work. Don't overdo it, now. You're pregnant, after all." He glanced at her belly. "I mean really, really pregnant."

Moira smiled. "Gee, thanks for noticing, Evan." She watched him leave. Felt a surge of tears. She wiped her eyes, stood. Whirled suddenly as John approached quietly, holding the rack of vials. He set them on the table, gaze raking over her. Such warmth in his eyes she swallowed nervously. "Um, John..."

He drew her into his arms. Kissed her. A long, lingering kiss. "Moira." His lips caught hers again but she pulled back from him, unsettled.

"Sorry, John. I know you're angry but I had to explain our–"

"Angry?" He raised a brow. "Do I look angry, sweetheart?"

"Well, no. But I know you. I'm sorry. I had to explain our–"

"I love you, Moy. And yes." He pulled her gently into his arms again. Kissed her.

"Yes? What?"

"Yes. To all of that. You make me feel the same. All of it. You. Only you." He kissed her again. Ran his kisses up her throat to her ear. "I want you, Moy. I want to make love with my Moira. I want to be as intimate as we can be," he wooed.

"I...I've got work...I...this...I..." She felt tears.

"All right. In thirty? Meet me in our room, okay? I'll have something special for you there."

She smirked, staring down as she extricated herself from him. "Looks like you have something special for me now, sweetie."

He smiled. "Oh? That? Yeah, but I meant something else too." He kissed her. "In thirty, baby. Don't be late or I will spank that pert little ass blue."

"Hmm...maybe I'll be late then, sweetie," she teased.

He smiled. "You better not be, baby." He swatted her rear. Laughed at her expression and left.

Moira nearly ran down the hallways. She spun round the corner, flew into her room. "John! John, I'm sorry! Carson and I got really involved in the research and we found a new oh my oh my!" She froze, catching her breath. Stared.

All of the wrapping paper was gone. The floor was clean. The table still bore all of the presents. Except now they were surrounded, overwhelmed by bouquets of roses. All reds. Scarlet and carmine. Ruby and crimson. A vivid tableau against the blue-green walls, the bubbling waters. The rich, heady fragrance wafting on the cooler air.

In front of the table stood a large cabinet. Made of glass and wood. Crystals danced in it, catching the sunlight flooding from the window. Refracting the several shades of red on the table. She neared. Slid to her knees in front of it. Touched the small panel on the door. Colors sparkled. A sequence of lights played and the door opened.

"It's ATA activated, but specifically to only you and me," John explained, walking to her. "I had to unwrap it to fix it. Replaced the glass on one side. I had to cannibalize some Ancient crystals.

And nail the frame back into place where it hit my foot. McKay rigged the panel for me. Do you like it? I figured you could put your jewelry in there instead of in a dark drawer. And any other collectibles you have. Oh, I'd like to put a few things of mine in there as well. There's plenty of room. Moy?"

She looked up at him, smiled. "It's beautiful, John! Just what we needed! You dropped this? It's a wonder you didn't break your foot!"

"I had on my combat boots. Good thing too. Oh. I almost forgot. Open that bottom drawer." He pointed. Sat next to her.

She hesitated, not knowing what to expect. Saw the merriment, the anticipation in his brilliant green eyes. "Okay." She opened the drawer. Pulled out a scholarly journal about paleontology. "Um...okay..."

He grinned at her puzzlement. "It's a very special issue," he encouraged. "Open it."

She did so. Skimmed the contents. Gasped. "Oh! Oh my God! It...this, this is mine! It's..." She flipped the pages to the article. "John!" she exclaimed, nearly jumping to her feet. "This is mine! My article about the current research into elephant evolution! The dissertation based on our live specimens and the genetic samples! John! You can't publish this! It's classified! No one would believe it anyway because we have living specimens to study and no one can know about that and we–"

"Whoa!" He laughed, touched her lips. "Wow! Moy, don't have an orgasm without me, baby! This is the only issue. Since we can't have it published, you're right about that. Still, it deserves to be published, don't you think? Groundbreaking, so I've been told. Turns evolutionary theory on its head. So..." he shrugged. "You like?"

"I love! Oh John! John!" She set the journal back into the drawer. Closed it. Turned to him. Smiling, eyes bright with happiness, with love. She hugged him. Kissed him passionately. Pushed him onto his back. He laughed, catching her as she landed on top of him.

"Easy, Moy!" He grinned as she lavished kisses on him. Gently he rolled them onto their sides. Onto her back where he carefully moved over her, mindful of the baby bulge. He kissed her, slowing down the motion of their mouths. The passion. "Maybe we should take this to the bed so you can be more comfortable?" he suggested.

She laughed softly, caressing his arm. "Why? I'm fine right here if you are, sweetie." She kissed him. But he moved free. Guided her to her feet.

"The bed, baby. Sweet and slow."

"Okay, colonel." She kissed him. Ran her fingers along his chest as he guided her to the bed. "John...you...you...now? I mean...I have work to do thanks to you and you must have work thanks to me so I think we should–"

He kissed her. "The only work we have is right here, right now. That's a direct order, baby. I can't stand down while you are so excited. Over a piece of paper of all things!" he grumbled.

"What? It's not just a piece of paper! It's my work, published and challenging any current theories of oh ha ha you clever man!" He laughed as she playfully hit him. "Is that what you want, sweetie? Angry sex with a pregnant woman? We only have four more months of that, you know. John?"

He grinned. "Only four? Damn. Well, bring it on, baby. Bring it on!"


End file.
